The Return of MacPherson
by KartheyM
Summary: This was written after I saw the Season 2 finale, when Myka leaves. I was not happy about that; hence I "reinstated" her for this episode. :) The Warehouse 13 team is still reeling from the diabolical James MacPherson. When another MacPherson surfaces, Artie worries there could be a connection. An investigation uncovers more than they bargained for!
1. Chapter 1: The Dream

Title: The Return of MacPherson

_ He ran because they were chasing him; he didn't know where he was or how he'd gotten there, but there was no time to ponder it now._

_ The man ducked behind a tree and listened to the huffing breath and the hooves galloping past._

_ He hadn't meant to kill it; it was an accident. It had appeared with a rush in front of him, and he had found the nearest object-a fallen tree branch-and struck the animal. How could he have known that the creature's stunned stumbles would make him think that it was still coming toward him, and that the second blow he aimed at the creature's neck would entangle the branch in a chain around it's neck, and as the animal fell, strangle it?_

_ Now more of them were chasing him; or at least, they had been until he gave them the slip. The man paused to catch his breath-_

_ Then the alarms started; not sirens, but thousands of bells. As if on cue, tiny lights flickered on in the grass nearby. It would only be a manner of seconds before the area in which the man stood would be completely illuminated._

_ Thrashing wildly, the man took off again. To his terror, the lights followed him! An especially bright flashlight of some sort projected in front of him from below his hand. By this light-wherever it came from, the man did not have time to investigate-the man glimpsed a dark tunnel, a hole in one of the trees. He could hide there till the animals and fight off the lights that now surrounded him._

_ The man dove straight for the hole..._

_ ...and landed in his own hallway. He still wore his pajamas. It was still the middle of the night._

_ And the lights still floated around him! He dug in his pajama pocket and found the small aerosol canister. Spraying its contents in the air, he extinguished the lights one by one. The man lay on the floor, tired and overwhelmed._

_ "Come on Doug MacPherson," he slurred to himself, "it's just another dream."_

_ Doug closed his eyes and passed out._


	2. Chapter 2: Meeting MacPherson

The three Warehouse agents stepped out of the car somewhere in a small town in Illinois. Artie seemed hesitant; Myka laid a hand on his arm.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Artie's curly head snapped up, "What? Hm? Yeah, I'm okay... It's just-I thought we were... you know, done with this sort of thing."

"We might have been done with _James _MacPherson," Pete spoke up, "but if there's another MacPherson running around, we don't want him to get any ideas about avenging family or continuing a family legacy or stuff like that. Besides, didn't you say that an anomaly occurred here a few months ago, but we were still chasing MacPherson, so you didn't follow it like you normally would?"

Artie nodded, "You know what," he spoke in his usual, abrupt way, "you're right; let's go in and take care of this guy."

All three exited the car and approached the front door of the quaint, two-story brick house. Pete knocked.

A young man answered the door. He was tall, though not in the same degree MacPherson had been, with lean features, but his hair was soft and brown, and his eyes were a piercing hazel. Myka began to have her doubts about whether this was actually the man they were looking for.

"Mr. MacPherson?" Artie asked.

To everyone's surprise, he nodded, "Yeah, my name's Douglas; what can I do for you?"

Pete detected a slight British accent in his voice. He and Myka flipped open their badges. "Secret Service, I'm Agent Lattimer, this is Agent Bering, and our associate, Mr. Nielsen." he said, "We have a few questions for you regarding some...family connections. Can we come inside?"

Doug looked slightly alarmed at the mention of government agents, but he immediately stepped to the side and welcomed them, "Yes, of course, come in."

The first thing Myka noticed when they entered was the profusion of art items on display: a waistcoat in a glass case, various small, mysterious, aged-looking objects on metal stands or mounted on the wall.

"It's almost like being in the Warehouse," she murmured to Artie.

He rolled his eyes.

Once they were all settled in Doug's sitting room, their host glanced around at each of his guests, who did not seem much less relaxed than he was.

"What questions did you have for me?" Doug asked them.

Myka sought to relieve the tension by pointing to the antiques all around the house, "These are some interesting pieces; where did you get them?"

Doug shrugged, "Oh, it's all family heirlooms; most of it belonged to my great-grandfather. It's been passed down through the generations until it came to me."

"Wow, that's some great family loyalty you've got there, Doug," Artie inserted significantly.

Doug leaned over and picked up a particularly puzzling sort of contraption, looking like a metal spider sculpture with a hole in the top of it. "I keep it because it's fun to look at, and I like antiques; being that it belongs to the family makes it so much more special." He chuckled, "The trouble is, only my great-granddaddy knew anything about this stuff, and he never talked much about it. I remember my grandpa saying that he had invented everything, but what it does and why he invented it, I guess we'll never know."

Pete leaned forward, knowing that it would fall to him to ask the question that would either get them all into trouble, or mean they could all go home.

"Doug," he began slowly, "do you know a man by the name of James MacPherson?"

Doug immediately shook his head, "Is that what this is about? This James bloke is in trouble and you thought I might have some connection because of our names? Sorry, sir, MacPherson is a common name; this James you're looking for might be a distant relative of mine, but I've never heard of him, and there's no one in my family by that name."

The three agents visibly relaxed. Artie stood, signaling the end of the visit, "Well, that does answer our question, thank you very much, Doug."

The young man shook hands all around. "Well, I'm glad I could help you straighten that out," Doug responded amiably.

Myka's eye caught a table covered in papers and bulging envelopes on the table as she shook Doug's hand. "Looks like you're busy with something over there; are you researching or are these just bills?"

Doug's eyes darted toward her, and she added, "Just out of curiosity, I mean. I'm interested in stuff like that; no offense."

Doug nodded and his face relaxed, but Pete noticed that his manner remained on edge.

"That's all stuff I... I must have done it in my sleep," Doug stammered, "Nothing makes any sense to me, I have no idea what it is."

Pete and Myka casually made their way over to the table, but the envelopes were blank, and the writing on the papers looked either mundane and dry, like printouts of several encyclopedia pages, or handwriting that was indecipherable in a quick glance. Once when Doug's eyes were turned, Myka saw Pete palm one of the envelopes.

"Thanks for helping us, Doug," he said easily, moving back toward the door.

Though he wasn't rushing them any faster than normal, Myka noticed that Doug suddenly seemed anxious to get them out of his house. She wondered if it had something to do with the contents of the envelope. Was Doug a drug dealer? She had seen price lists on the table, but none of the amounts were anything she was familiar with drug dealers commonly using. As soon as they got in the car and Artie pulled away from the house to drive back to South Dakota, Pete pulled out the envelope.

"Something about this was making Doug uneasy, did either of you catch that?"

"Yeah," Myka agreed, "what do you think is in there? An artifact?"

Pete pinched the envelope. "Could be; it feels hard, and uneven, with a few pointy parts, and I feel something like a piece of paper the same dimensions as the envelope inside."

Artie shook his head, "I know what an artifact feels like; that is not an artifact," he told his co-workers.

"Well then," Pete asked the obvious, "What is it?"

Claudia was waiting in Artie's office when they returned.

"Hey you guys!" she cried exuberantly, "I've been bored out of my skull all morning. How did it go? Was it some guy with a connection to MacPherson?"

"It was a MacPherson, all right," Myka said.

"Yeah, just no close relative of _James _MacPherson," Artie finished.

Claudia grinned, "Well, that's a relief." Her quick, curious eyes caught sight of the envelope in Pete's hand. "What did _you _find, Pete?"

Pete laid the envelope on Artie's desk. "I don't really know; we wanted to wait till we got back here to find out what it was."

Claudia clapped, "Sweet! Let's dig in, what are we waiting for? Is it an artifact?"

"Artie says it's not," Myka informed her, as Pete carefully pulled up the sealed tab and grasped the piece of paper. The entire of its contents came with the paper.

Everyone gasped. Artie's eyes gleamed, "In all my years working with the unexplainable, the profusion of new things never ceases to surprise me," he remarked.

Laying on the desk, pinned carefully to an index card was the stiff form of a six-inch-high fairy.


	3. Chapter 3: Fairy Frenzy

Claudia was fascinated by the small, frozen creature. "Dude!" she chortled, "That's awesome! Do you mean that this dude has _fairies_? How wicked is that!" She peered closer at it.

Artie seemed hesitant and confused at the sight of an actual _being _rather than an object, in addition to the fact that it was not an artifact. But if the fairy wasn't an artifact, how did it surface in the real world? He pointed at Pete and Myka.

"All right, you two, come with me. This fairy's from a fantasy world, maybe we can find out more about it through fantasy-related artifacts."

"Oh, can I help?" Claudia volunteered.

Pete and Myka saw the old caretaker wince at the suggestion. Something about Claudia's personality never ceased to tick Artie off. "No, Claudia, you stay here in the office. Pete and Myka can help me. It will only be a short trip." He paused at his computer and entered in some reference terms. "Okay, the largest number of fantasy-related artifacts is concentrated in section L, Row 43. Ooh, I think we even have something of Barrie's down there. That's where we're headed." Pete and Myka nodded and prepared to follow Artie out.

The caretaker paused, holding the door for his younger co-workers. He turned briefly back to Claudia.

"Do me a favor: don't touch anything while I'm gone."

"Right, whatever!" the girl shot back, "It's not like I haven't been _doing _that all morning!" She slumped in an old armchair with her arms crossed.

"Thank you," Artie responded shortly, "we'll be back. Holler if you get yourself into trouble." He closed the door behind him.

"Fat chance!" Claudia called after him. "I can take care of myself," she reassured nobody in particular.

To pass the time, she pulled out a large magnifying glass and examined the fairy. Aside from being six inches long-quite large, as far as popular expectations of fairies went-the creature on the card was very much what one would expect a fairy to look like: glossy-white skin, pointed ears (Claudia noticed that the lobes were also pointed, giving the ears almost an elliptical shape), sleek blonde hair pulled back in a curly ponytail, a filmy purple dress, delicate feet, and of course, wings. Claudia studied the wings closely; they almost looked like they were made of feathers, more like bird wings than insect wings. The pin holding the fairy to the card ran through them; Claudia, peering through the strongest magnifying glass she could find, tried moving the pin to see if the wings would tear (like an insect's), or if the small sections were made of follicles, which meant they wouldn't. The pin came completely out, and the wing appeared intact.

"Like birds," Claudia whispered to herself.

Quite unexpectedly, the wing twitched beneath the magnifying glass, causing Claudia to jump back as the light movement appeared huge because of the magnification. She quickly shoved the magnifying glass aside.

"What the-"

It moved! The fairy opened its eyes and blinked! Claudia leaped back with a shriek. It was alive!

The fairy twitched its wings a couple times, and a bright light flickered, seeming to emanate from the movement of the wings. Glowing brightly, the fairy speedily shot up into the air, emitting a noise like an alarm, though only about the volume of a cell phone.

"Ahh! I didn't mean to-" Claudia gasped, ducking as the fairy flew toward her, still tinkling madly.

The fairy appeared momentarily distracted by the various other items in the office, and Claudia could only watch in terrified fascination at the small, bright orb zipping hither and thither around the room. "Oh, I am _so _screwed!" she breathed to herself as the fairy knocked over a few items Artie had so carefully set up on display. The inquisitive creature began dipping into Artie's file drawers, which the curator had left open.

"Hey!" Claudia yelled, and immediately regretted it as the fairy returned to dive-bombing her head.

Claudia screamed and covered her head. "Help me!" she hollered.

Down on the warehouse floor, Artie, Pete, and Myka heard Claudia's screams. "What-wh-what'd she do now?" Artie demanded in consternation.

Pete, up on the ladder, could see the office, and he saw a bright light flashing around the office.

"I think it's the fairy! It looks like it's alive!" he called, climbing down.

"What?" Artie gasped. He scanned the shelves until he came to a small silver canister, "We might take this along, then."

"What's that?" Myka asked as they climbed onto the cart and Artie took off through the aisles as fast as he dared.

"It's fairy dust!" Artie answered.


	4. Chapter 4: Sheerya

Back in the office, the fairy continued to fly around Claudia's head. The poor girl curled up in the armchair, too scared to move, and almost in tears. The fairy persisted in flying close circles around the chair, still chattering away in a strange, bell-like language. After a while, the fairy took to zipping crazily around the room in wide circles, always returning to Claudia just when she felt it was sufficiently safe to move.

Just then, Pete, Myka, and Artie burst through the door.

"Quick!" Myka called, "Close the door so it doesn't get out!"

In that brief moment as Artie closed the door, Pete lost sight of the shooting light. "Where'd it go?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he turned his head and the glowing fairy appeared right in front of his eyes. "_Gah!" _Pete involuntarily closed his eyes and grasped right in front of them with his hand. To his surprise, he felt a small object in his hand, and everyone began scanning the room as if the fairy had disappeared.

Pete slowly opened his fingers and gazed at the flickering light in his palm. Carefully, he reached into the cradle of his hand and grasped the feathery wings. This way, the small creature could not fly away as he slowly drew it out for all to see. The little fairy raised her hands in the well-known gesture of surrender.

Everyone stared at her in awe. "Oh... my... god..." Myka gasped, staring at the innocent little face at the edge of Pete's hand.

"Well, Claudia-" Artie began, but Claudia was recovered from her shock by now.

"I didn't mean to do anything, I was just looking at her! How was I supposed to know she would wake up so fast! And she was freaking me out with the flying thing-"

The fairy began tinkling again; somehow she was not afraid of the humans around her. Pete detected a pattern in her jangling noises.

"She sounds like she's-Is she talking?" He raised the fairy to his eye level. He could see her lips moving, but the sounds that came out were like high-pitched ringing sounds, not words.

She "spoke" again, but when Pete did not respond, she began looking around the room, obviously for some medium of communication. She jangled excitedly when she saw Artie's computer, pointing with both arms outstretched.

"That?" Pete asked, also pointing to the computer, "You want that?"

"Be careful, Pete," Myka warned as he advanced toward the machine, "She might try to fly away."

"Please don't let her screw anything up on that computer!" Artie begged.

The fairy wriggled in excitement as they neared the computer.

Pete set her down carefully and gently, and the fairy stood, staring at the archaic piece of equipment.

"You know," Pete mused, "she might be trying to communicate. Let me see." He opened a screen on the computer that was a blank window on which one could enter text.

The fairy flew over the keyboard pensively, pausing every so often to land on a key to press it.

Myka peered at the text appearing on the window. "That's English!" she exclaimed.

"What does it say?" Artie asked, still poring over the books he had on fairies and mythical creatures.

Myka read the words aloud. "_Hello...my name is Sherrie._.." the fairy squeaked and rushed to correct her spelling, "Um, no-_Sheerya... Is this earth_?"

"Wait, how come she knows English," Claudia protested, "but she can't speak it? Can she understand it?"

"It doesn't appear so," Pete replied.

Myka looked down at the fairy, Sheerya. "Yes, this is earth," she replied, but Sheerya did not react until Myka accompanied her words with a nod. She flew around the keyboard to type another question, which Myka again read.

"_Is this Aerca_?"

"America? Yes," Myka nodded.

Sheerya grew increasingly excited. Her next question surprised them all, "_Do yu kno casdet rabnkum_?"

Myka pronounced the strange word, "I don't know if that's a language or a name, or some sort of ritual-"

Sheerya, meanwhile, had realized her mistake and slowly typed again the words, "_Casey Rankin."_

"Oh... No," Myka answered, remembering to include a shake of the head.

After resting a moment, she flew back up to the keyboard and typed, "_i hve been here befre casey tught mi t read n rite englis bcaze i cnnt spek it or understad it wthout fery dst." _After typing such a long sentence, Sheerya paused for a breather beside the keyboard, wiping a small hand across her forehead. Typing was hard work when one had to travel such a distance between key strokes!

Artie chuckled, "Well, it's a good thing I brought the dust," he said, "How much does she need?"

Myka glanced at the keyboard, with the fairy standing next to it, "Uh," she murmured, moving closer to the desk. Sheerya looked up, and Myka made a typing movement.

Sheerya nodded, and watched Myka's hands descend over her head as she typed,

"_We have fairy dust; how much do you need?"_

Sheerya grew excited and bounced around the keyboard, "_Rely? fery dst frm pantam?"_

Myka read it, and Sheerya corrected herself as she heard the woman sound out the words. "_Pitazi? Phantasm?"_

Artie shrugged, placing the canister on the desk, "I really didn't know there were different kinds; I just kept it all in one container as I gathered it. I've only ever heard of one kind."

"Yeah, the kind that makes you fly, like in _Peter Pan_," Myka agreed.

"So why is she talking about understanding and speaking with fairy dust?"

Artie removed the lid of the canister, and Sheerya peered inside. Shrieking sharply, she chattered in evident disappointment. Flying down to the pile of dust, Sheerya flashed brightly and somehow produced a small pail, which she settled into the dust and began flying in tight circles over. As she flew, some of the dust rose over the edges of the pail and filled it to the brim. When the bucket was full, Sheerya carried it out of the canister and set it on the desk. She flew again over to the keyboard to type out her message.

"_To understad mi werds, put fery dst in yr ears." _She obligingly flew behind the magnifying glass and pantomimed a demonstration of taking a dab of dust on her finger and wiping it in her ears.

Artie pulled out a piece of paper, poured the yellowish dust out on it, and all four warehouse-workers followed her example. Claudia gasped as she began to discern words in the jangling noises Sheerya made. They all looked at one another as everyone realized at the same time that they could at last understand the fairy.

"Oh good, I was getting tired of the typing thing!" Sheerya said first, continuing, "That computer is really old, older than Casey's; did I go back in time? What year is this?" She didn't wait for a response, but flew to the window of the office as she strung one question immediately after the other, "So where exactly are we? Is this Washington? That's where Casey lives. Is it dark outside? No, wait, those aren't stars, they're lights." she gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth in horror, "Earth has an Underworld too? I had no idea; are we in the Underworld?"

"What do you mean _Underworld?_" Pete asked her.

"And what do you mean, _too_?" Myka added.

Sheerya stopped flying and landed on the desk next to the pile of fairy dust.

"Oh, I see the problem here," she remarked, "you can now understand me, but I still can't understand you. You need fairy dust on your _tongues _in order for me to understand your speech."

Pete turned back to the computer. "_Why do we need fairy dust? Why can't you put it in your own ears?"_

Sheerya read the question and sighed, "Geez! It's because the grains are too big; it would be like trying to put pebbles in my ear, see?" She picked up a single grain of fairy dust, as big as a BB-gun pellet in her palm. "It falls right back out."

Pete and Myka looked at Artie, who shrugged, "I guess we have to do what she says," he admitted, but everyone hesitated at ingesting the mysterious substance.

"What are you waiting for?" Sheerya demanded, "You don't have to use a lot; just a tiny bit on the tip of your tongue is enough."

Still nobody moved, until Claudia licked her fingertip and daubed a bit of dust onto it. "Well," she told the rest brightly, "here goes nothing!"

"Wait!" Myka cried, taking up some powder herself, "Let's all do it together."

Pete and Artie complied, and Claudia counted, "One, two, three, _now!"_

They all wiped their fingers on their tongues, and promptly began gasping and spitting.

"Oh, oh my god!" Claudia moaned.

"Eeww! Eww! Spicy!" Myka gasped, fanning her mouth desperately.

Pete merely clapped his fist in front of his mouth as tears formed at the corners of his eyes.

Only Artie settled back in his chair, rolling his chin around as if mulling over the taste. "Actually, it's not that bad," he mused.

"_Not-(_cough)-_not that bad?" _Pete rasped.

Just then, everyone heard a faint laughing sound. Sheerya rolled around the desk with her arms clutched over her stomach, laughing hysterically.

"Oh man!" she cried, "Oh _man!_ Haha! That never gets old! Happens every time! Heehee, I love it!"

Pete finally got control of himself sufficiently to pinch Sheerya by the wings again.

"Ouch!" she squeaked, looking offended at him.

"Very funny, ha ha," he grumbled at her.

The little fairy wriggled, "Ok, geez, I'm sorry! It's just been _so _long since I've talked to a non-fairy, and humans are the _only _ones who react like that, I couldn't resist!" She cast a truly penitent expression at him, "I'm sorry."

Pete sighed and set her back on the desk, and the little fairy wasted no time getting down to business.

"Ok, so what am I doing here?"

Artie stopped, "What, you don't know? We were just going to ask you the same question."

Sheerya shook her head, "There is no way from Phantasm into this world from our end; the only way I could be here is if somebody-I assume one of you-went to Phantasm and brought me back. Plus, that somebody would need the Phantasmagyth."

"Okay, first of all, what is Phantasm?" Myka inquired.

"And what is a Phantasmagyth?" Claudia wanted to know, "It sounds cool!"

"Wait," Sheerya lifted off the desk and flew around to each of the humans, "so none of you even _know _about Phantasm? None of you went?"

They all shook their heads.

"So," Sheerya wanted to know, "What am I doing here? and where is here, exactly?"

Artie answered her, "Well, it's not the underground-"

"Under_world_," Sheerya corrected him. "It's the place under the surface of Phantasm where all the evil creatures are."

Myka shuddered as Artie continued, "Ok, Underworld; we are above the ground here. We're in a place called South Dakota."

Sheerya stared out the window. "This is South Dakota? Is that near Washington? Do you have any sky here?"

"Well, right now we're in a warehouse," Artie explained.

"But why am I _here_?" Sheerya wondered again. "If you guys don't know about the Phantasmagyth, how did I get here?"

"What is the Phantasmagyth?" Pete asked her.

"It's the key to the portal between this world and Phantasm," Sheerya explained, "and it is also the protection system for Phantasm. As long as the Protector holds the Phantasmagyth in Phantasm, there is no way anyone can gain control over the creatures of Phantasm."

"What does it look like?" Claudia asked, liking the sound of "protection system" and envisioning all sorts of extraterrestrial gadgets.

"It looks like a large gem, almost as big as a-a whatdoyoucallit, the white thing that you hit with a blat."

"A blat?" Pete echoed, "You mean a bat? Like baseball?"

"Baseball! That's it; yeah, a clear gem as big as a baseball, set in gold, and hanging on a gold chain. There is nothing like it on earth; you'd know it if you saw it."

Artie picked up his head, "Baseball-size gem, set in gold, one-of-a-kind? We'd know it if we saw it?"

Sheerya turned to him in surprise, "You've seen it?" she asked incredulously.

Artie leapt to his feet and began frantically searching all the nooks in his office. "I knew it was some sort of special item, but it didn't strike me as an artifact. I kept it safe anyway, just in case."

From a dark, forgotten corner of the office, Artie pulled out a square glass case coated in dust. Blowing the dust off in a grey cloud, Artie held it up in front of everyone, revealing the large gem displayed inside.

"That's it!" Sheerya cried, "You have the gyth? How did you get it? Where? When?"

"A few months ago, I was at an art auction back east-Illinois, actually, where we were this morning-because I heard of that anomaly I mentioned earlier when we went to visit Doug, and I assumed it was connected with an artifact. Nothing there made me suspicious, but I got this gem because it look so out-of-place among the other exhibits that I knew it had to be something special. You say this is the Phantasmagyth?"

"No, that's just the gyth; with the Chain, it becomes the Phantasmagyth."

"The Chain? What's so special about the Chain?"

"It is the source of power for the Phantasmagyth; without the Chain, the gyth is only a really big gem."

"So the Chain is very important?" Pete surmised.

"Yes, it is possibly the most important. If both pieces of the Phantasmagyth are here, you need to find the chain before somebody evil does."

"Why do we need to worry about that? What can a human do with the Phantasmagyth?" Myka wondered.

"The one who holds the complete Phantsmagyth is the highest authority in Phantasm, and all creatures are forced to obey his word. But that's not the worst of it. Since the Phantasmagyth has been to Earth before, legend holds that the authority of the Phantasmagyth can control the inhabitants of all the worlds where the Phantasmagyth has been activated."

"So if a power-hungry guy like MacPherson got a hold of this Phantasmagyth, he could essentially control all life on Earth _and _in Phantasm?" Claudia concluded.

"Yeah, pretty much," Sheerya agreed, then flew directly into Claudia's face. "Wait, _what_? Did you say _MacPherson? _As in _Pierson MacPherson?_ You're kidding, _him _again?" she began flying wide circles in agitation, "Ohh, when I get my hands on him I'm gonna-Ooh, he makes me so mad! The nerve of that guy! I cannot believe-"

"Whoa, whoa!" Claudia cried, waving her hands at Sheerya, "Slow down! I meant _James _MacPherson. I don't know who the heck this _Pierson _guy is!"

"But we did find you at the house of Doug MacPherson. Do you know if he's any relation to the Pierson you know?" Pete volunteered.

"Doug?" Sheerya echoed, "I don't know any Doug. Pierson MacPherson is from Scotland, and he invented a whole bunch of stuff, and pretty much was the worst thing that ever happened to Phantasm. He's the one who helped Krasimir Schlimme hunt down a lot of us. He also had this machine that could automatically activate a portal and reach into Earth by it, because he was searching for the pieces of the Phantasmagyth when it shattered after we defeated Krasimir Schlimme."

"We?" Pete echoed curiously, amazed at the wealth of information the small creature possessed.

"Casey and I."

"Well, it sounds like we need to find out more about this Pierson guy," Artie spoke up, sitting down in front of his computer and entering "PIERSON MACPHERSON" into his search database.

Within seconds, all the information about Pierson appeared on the screen. Artie read the main sections.

"Bingo! Okay, yeah; from Scotland, lived-_wheew!" _he whistled, "in the late 19th century!" He glanced up at Sheerya, who was hovering in front of the screen. "When did you say you met this guy?"

"Yeah, it was him, I don't know, the last time I was here, when Casey was just married. There was some liquor Pierson made that prevented the aging process, so he lived in Phantasm for over one hundred of your years without aging."

"Really?" Claudia queried incredulously.

"Told you he was bad!" Sheerya reiterated.

"One hundred years without aging," Pete pondered, "wow! Just thinking about it makes me want to go crazy!"

"Oh, he was crazy all right," Sheerya confirmed, "trust me!"

Artie continued reading, "Okay, it doesn't say anything about him disappearing for a long time-"

Sheerya bobbed up and down, "Right, because he returned to the same instant he left, by his machine."

"But it _does _list descendants: married Kerrie Patterson, had three kids, Joshua, Caleb, and Danielle-"

"You're kidding, Danielle and Caleb?" Sheerya stopped and studied the screen with interest.

"Why is that so surprising?" Myka asked.

Sheerya chuckled, "That's Casey and his wife! Casey's real name is Caleb, and his wife's name is Danielle!"

Pete shook his head and rubbed his forehead with a fingertip. "So a guy from the 19th century meets a couple from the 21st century, and then names his kids after them before they're even born-too weird!"

"Shush!" Artie burst out, "I might be on to something! Ok, Joshua and Danielle stayed in Scotland, but Caleb marries Katherine Jergen and moves to America... hmm, this might-aha! Has a son named Paul, and _his _son is-"

"Let me guess," Pete cut in, "Douglas MacPherson of Illinois?"

"Bingo!" Artie raised his hands in triumph.

"All right, then," Pete stood up, "does this mean Myka and I need to go back to Illinois?"

"Evidently we have more questions for our Mr. MacPherson, great-grandson of the original Pierson MacPherson!"

"Oh really?" Artie countered, spinning around to face his two eager agents, "Questions such as..."

"Well, for starters, how much does he know about Pierson MacPherson?"

"We already know that; he told us he didn't know much about his great-grandfather, remember? Besides, it's not really our business."

"Well, I don't know about you, but a guy who has a gem on a chain that may enable him to control the world sounds pretty 'artifact-ish' to me," Pete submitted, "and we just happen to be in the business of artifacts!"

"Doug MacPherson is not controlling the world-" Artie protested.

"Yet," Myka cut in. "It's probably something that he had in his house, which he probably hasn't discovered yet. Don't you remember how weird he acted when we asked about the papers?"

"Yes," Artie responded, "but that was probably because of the envelopes with the fairies-"

"You mean he got more of us?" Sheerya shrieked.

Everyone stopped, and Pete tried to recall all he had seen on the table. "Yeah, there were a bunch of the same little envelopes, that's why I took this one, because I knew he wouldn't miss it."

"So... What else could the artifact be?" Claudia inserted.

"We don't know he has an artifact-" Artie tried to explain, but Pete cut him off,

"All we know is that Sheerya was not the artifact; he could very well have one."

"Okay," Artie allowed, "an artifact would have to be something old, that has direct correlation with someone in the past who had dealings with the situation in question, in this case, Phantasm."

"What I don't get," Myka spoke up at last, "is-Sheerya, you said that as long as the Phantasmagyth was in the care of the Protector, and the whole thing was in Phantasm, that there was no way anyone could get in from our world. Right?"

"Right; as long as the whole Phantasmagyth remained together and in the care of the Protector, nothing could happen." the fairy nodded, settling on Claudia's shoulder, to the girl's discomfort.

"So... how did Pierson and that other guy, Slim-"

"Schlimme?"

"Yeah; how did they first get to Phantasm if they didn't have the Phantasmagyth?"

Sheerya stopped, unsure for the first time. "Well, um-"

Pete, looking pensive, raised a hand, "Now, there are only two parts to this Phantasmagyth, right? The Chain, which we don't have, and the gyth, which we do. And only when both parts are together, does the bearer get full control of the Phantasmians and whoever else. Is this correct?"

"Well-" Sheerya sighed, "Actually... there is sort of another part to the Phantasmagyth... not really, I mean, it's not as powerful-"

"What is it?" Artie interrupted her.

Sheerya flew slowly to his desk and settled next to his hand.

"There's another chain," she confessed quietly, "Krasimir Schlimme, when he could not find the real Chain, used Phantasmian metal to forge another chain."

Pete pointed at Artie with both hands, "Bingo! One metal artifact, positively identified!"

The old curator shook his head, "You don't get it, do you?" he asked Pete mysteriously. Raising his voice to include all those present, he announced, "fellow agents-(and Claudia)-we now have two objects for which to search: the real chain, and the one we will call the Schlimme artifact. Now, correct me _anyone _if this does not sound probable, that our Doug MacPherson has somehow and for some reason been able to use the artifact to open a portal into Phantasm. We need to figure out why and how, and the best place to start would be-" he raised his bushy eyebrows at Pete and Myka.

"Well, let's start by finding out as much as we can about Schlimme himself, since we're looking for his artifact," Myka volunteered, "and Pierson MacPherson, because we need to find that other chain, and since we'll want as much information as possible, I'd go with the one mutual associate we know of, Sheerya's friend Casey Rankin."

"Sounds good to me!" Pete agreed.

"Okay," Artie turned back to his computer and booted up the search database, "let's start looking!"

Claudia looked up Pierson MacPherson, Artie searched for Casey Rankin, while Pete and Myka dug up as much as they could about Krasimir Schlimme.


	5. Chapter 5: A Bit of Research

All four met around the table at Leena's B&B by the afternoon.

Claudia shared first, "Well, there's not much I could find on this dude beyond what we already know: he lived, he invented stuff, he married, he had kids, he died." She shrugged and ran a hand through her hair. "There's absolutely nothing about him even researching portals or anything. I guess he had a crazy grandfather that would talk about going to a different world, and I found a journal entry in which he claimed his grandfather brought two water-horse eggs from another world, but really not much else."

"That's true," Sheerya verified, "I saw the water-horse," she shuddered, "and whatever inventions he could concoct in one hundred years on Phantasm. He would have had Phantasm _and _Earth under his domination by his machines if Casey hadn't gotten all of us united against his takeover."

"Ok," Pete nodded, presenting his and Myka's report, "as for this Schlimme guy, all I've got to say is, he really got around! Here's his picture," he handed Claudia and Artie a photograph of a rather handsome-looking man with short, thick, dark hair and steely grey eyes. "His dad was an explorer, Marcus Schlimme, and a lecturer at a German college whose name I can't pronounce."

"Cool!" Claudia exclaimed, peeking over Pete's shoulder at the foreign word, "Sorta like Indiana Jones' day-job!"

"Yeah, almost like that," Pete agreed.

Claudia glanced back at the photo of Krasimir, "Only, between you and me, he's a lot cuter than Harrison Ford."

Myka rolled her eyes and continued the report. "Marcus married an Arabic woman, Shatiq Al-Amaba, whom he met on one of his travels through Saudi Arabia. I guess she was part of a cult that believed in the existence of other worlds, and the ability for the right person, at the right time, in the right place and the right manner, to be able to contact those worlds."

Pete let Myka's words sink in for a bit before resuming, "Myka and I maybe thought that maybe a combination of influences from both his father and his mother could have prompted Krasimir's initial search for other worlds."

"And he just _happens _to stumble on our own Phantasm," Claudia inserted again.

Artie shot her a look and returned to Pete, "So you're saying that Krasimir went _looking _for other worlds? He actually started searching for them?"

"Yeah; I guess there must have been some sort of book he found that talks about the ancient methods of finding interdimensional portals, and used that to make his initial contact," Pete answered.

Artie shook his head, "You are drawing too many conclusions without proof; you say there's a book, so what is this book?"

"There's no title, and I'm not sure it exists any more, but we found some old notes he had entered on his computer back in 1977, just before he first recorded anything about Phantasm in those same notes, further on in the document."

"Ah, okay. What else did you find?"

Myka grinned wryly, "Well, by all public appearances Krasimir was very much a better man than his father, more serious, and stronger in the area of business than his father ever had been, but in 1980, just a few years after he 'discovers' Phantasm and records several consecutive trips there, he suddenly gets in touch with his artistic side and begins exhibiting small sculptures and paintings at local art houses."

Pete took up the tale, "As he began making more money off the exhibitions, he began making more trips to Phantasm, and what do you think? His-"

"Oh! Lemme guess!" Claudia interrupted again, "he keeps expanding his exhibit and adding more pieces!"

"Yep!" Pete cried,

"I was one of those 'pieces' once," Sheerya revealed with a shudder.

"Okay, so in 1993, he moves to Ann Arbor, Michigan, sets up in a little art museum called Snowden House-"

"Hey!" Sheerya brightened up and began flying crazy patterns around the room in excitement, "That's where I met Casey!"

Pete laughed, "It must have been, because that was the year everything fell apart. He managed to expand the exhibit to fill an entire hall, but two weeks after opening, some sort of fiasco happened-"

"Casey activated the Phantasmagyth!" Sheerya crowed.

"-and a newspaper reported that the artwork seemed to come to life!" Just after finishing the sentence, Pete realized what Sheerya had said, "Wait, he activated the Phantasmagyth? That's what the Phantasmagyth does?"

"Yeah; Krasimir had this paralyzing agent that kept all of us frozen stiff like statues, but the activated Phantasmagyth reversed that."

"So if he held the activated Phantasmagyth, doesn't that mean he had complete control over all the Phantasmian creatures?"

Sheerya settled on the handle of the teapot at the middle of the table and sighed, "Yeah, except that Casey didn't know it, and he was so scared at everything that he just ran away from the museum, which lessened the effectiveness of the Phantasmagyth, so Krasimir could just swoop in and freeze the remaining creatures again."

Myka glanced back down at the report, "All right, so the fiasco happens, and Krasimir goes dark for a few days, resurfacing again at a circus just outside of town."

"Oh gosh, that was the _worst_!" Sheerya piped up, "He had this werewolf bodyguard who, like, attacked Casey, and that's how he found out about the power of the Chain and decided to make one of his own, and he captured _me _to find out how!" Sheerya chuckled, "Lucky for all of us, his chain wasn't as powerful as he wanted it to be!" She smiled and rubbed her hands with glee.

Artie looked at the talkative fairy, "What do you mean?"

Sheerya flickered her wings nonchalantly, "Krasimir's chain only controlled the Underworlders, who obeyed his command anyway. It could not have any power over us Phantasmians. We almost escaped him at the circus because he didn't know his limited power. The only trouble was Casey's lack of escape plan, so we were free from imprisonment, but with nowhere to go."

Artie glanced down at the report in his hand and rubbed his stubble-covered chin with an amused expression on his face. "I'm sensing a pattern here, guys," he said. "Does anybody else see it?"

Myka only pondered for a moment before she too began slowly to grin. "Pierson nearly took over control of the Phantasmagyth, but one guy stopped him."

"Yep," Artie nodded, "Krasimir also wanted control, but the same guy-at that time only a kid-stopped him."

Claudia, who had lost interest during the interaction between Pete and Sheerya and slumped with her head resting on her folded arms, suddenly looked up with a gleam in her eye. "I think this guy is the key to all our questions."

Artie laid down his report and adjusted his spectacles, "Or he just might be able to tell us a whole lot about the goings-on in Phantasm." He cleared his throat, "Harumph! Okay, Casey Rankin, actually named Caleb Seymour-"

"Boy, I can 'see more' why he decided to go by Casey!" Pete interjected.

The girls groaned at his joke while Artie continued, "lived in Washington state, shipped off to an experimental academy back East-the same one Snowden House is affiliated with, and the same year as our own Krasimir Schlimme came to town-, met his future wife there, a Danielle Coraldi, and-like we've already established-managed to best Krasimir Schlimme during his years there. Everything is pretty normal during the next ten years-"

"During which we became the really close friends we are now!" Sheerya cried.

"-while he completed his academic education, and reconnected with Danielle, married her, and had one daughter whom they raised together till Danielle passed away six years ago from bone cancer."

"Ouch!" Pete inserted sympathetically.

The effect on the little fairy was more striking. She suddenly ceased moving and slipped off the teapot onto the table. Running over to Artie's hand, she threw her small body onto it.

"Danielle..." she gasped, "Dani is..._dead_?"

Artie sighed, slightly irritated by all the interruptions which he could not understand. "I'm afraid so," he replied.

Sheerya slumped on the table and covered her face with her hands, "Oh, poor Casey! He loved her so much, how awful that must have been for him!" She cast a fearful glance up at Artie, "Unless he's-oh no! Don't tell me _he's _dead _too!"_

Artie glanced at his report, "Not that I could find. I think we'd better start looking for Casey if we're going to get to the bottom of this. His last known address is in Watersmeet, Michigan."

Myka picked up the photograph of Casey taken with his family: a grey-haired, bright-blue-eyed, middle-aged man with a joyful smile; next to him was Dani, a lovely woman whose dark-blonde hair was streaked with silver, whose grey eyes still held a twinkle, and whose smile was framed with gentle dimples of graceful aging. Leaning on her shoulder was their adult daughter, Sheila, whose looks evidently took after her father: the same bright blue eyes and shining smile. Graceful dark-blonde hair curled around her face and down to her shoulder. Myka wondered if Sheila had a boyfriend.

Artie stood and gathered all the reports, "Okay, Pete, you and Myka are going to handle this one, and Claudia-" he sighed as the girl brightened, "I've decided to let you go, too, but _please_ stay out of trouble! Leena has your tickets, I suggest you leave as soon as possible. Your flight, I believe, departs in three hours."

Pete and Myka looked at each other. Pete raised his eyebrows, "I guess we're going to Michigan," he remarked.

"Can I come too?" Sheerya begged.

"It might be useful to have you along," Pete allowed.

"I don't want any trouble," Myka protested, "Sheerya, can you stay out of sight?"

Sheerya grinned and dove into Myka's purse hanging on the coat-rack. "It's my specialty, you might say!" she cried from within its depths.

Pete and Myka shrugged, "I guess she's coming, then."

Claudia grinned, "Let's get going, gangbusters!"


	6. Chapter 6: Britney

Four hours later, the trio landed in Michigan and rented a car to drive out to Watersmeet.

"All right," Myka turned in her seat to face Pete and Claudia, "Claudia, Pete and I are going to handle the talking, okay? You just follow and observe."

"Or I could, y'know, help talk, like maybe I can find out stuff from the daughter, maybe." Claudia offered.

Pete shook his head, "Or you could, y'know, sit in the car and wait for us," he responded in the same tone.

Claudia took the hint, "Okay, fine, gosh! I'll keep a lid on it."

"Thank you," Myka replied.

Just then, Sheerya popped out of Myka's purse. "We're almost there! This is their street, I remember it!" Pete slowed down and the little fairy began bouncing off the windshield like a large fly. "Almost there...almost there..." she murmured. Finally, she began flying in crazy loops all around the windshield, "There it is! It's still there!" She stopped and hovered a bit. "But-it's a different color," she mused with a puzzled air.

Pete slowed to a stop and parked the car. He pulled the paper on which Artie recorded the address and verified it. "This is the address," he responded with a shrug. "Maybe they've decided on a new paint job in the last forty years."

Sheerya thought about this and flicked her wings pensively, "True that," she acquiesced.

Claudia crawled out the back seat, and Myka began gathering the small items in her purse. She glanced up at Sheerya, who was staring at the small maroon house with white trim.

"Um, Sheerya?" she began.

"What?" Sheerya answered without turning.

"You should probably get in-"

"Oh yeah," Sheerya turned around and flew into Myka's purse, "I almost forgot."

Myka slid out of the car and adjusted her purse strap over her shoulder.

Sheerya squeaked.

"Hey, keep it quiet in there, okay?" Pete warned her.

Sheerya stuck her head out of Myka's purse. "Well ex_cuuse _me! A fairy could get killed on what this woman has in her purse, you know!"

"Sorry!" Myka apologized.

Once they all stood on the porch, Pete knocked on the door.

A young woman with red hair and green eyes answered the door. "Yes?"

Pete hesitated, so Myka asked, "Is this the Rankin residence?"

The woman furrowed her brow, "Rankin? No, we're the Coles; I don't know a-Wait, yes, I've heard that name. Some of the older residents talk about a crazy old man, Crazy Rankin, who would wander around town telling wild stories. I had no idea he lived here, though!"

Pete coughed, "Well, he used to; thank you ma'am, that's all we wanted to know."

"I'm sorry; have a good day!"

As soon as the woman returned into the house, Claudia could not resist bursting out, "Well, _that _went well! Now where do we go?"

"To town, I guess-" Myka replied.

Sheerya, meanwhile, had crawled out of the purse and now hovered in the air, staring back at the house. Everyone stopped to wait for her.

"Sheerya," Pete called, "we need to find Casey."

"But-" the little fairy protested, "He...He lived _here!_" Myka detected the sounds of sobs in her voice. "I don't understand," she continued pitifully, "they should still be here! And did you hear what she called him? 'Crazy old man.' He-Casey couldn't be crazy! That's just-"

"Sheerya," Pete walked back to the little fairy and held out his hand. "I promise we'll get this all figured out; hopefully we can do it before nightfall, but we need to head back into town. Whatever happened, the Rankins aren't here anymore."

Sheerya landed on Pete's hand and allowed him to carry her back to the car.

As they drove back into town, Myka spoke pensively, "If I was a crazy old man with wild stories and no place to live, where would I be?"

"The Blithedale Sanatorium?" Claudia guessed, seemingly out of the blue until she pointed to a large white sign down the road just ahead of them. An arrow guided them down a cross-street.

Pete followed the signs to the sanatorium.

"Why couldn't the daughter take care of him, though?" Myka wondered.

Pete shrugged as they pulled up to the large, white building.

As they walked inside, Pete questioned aloud, "What is it with sanatoriums and large white pillars out in front?"

The woman at the front desk was obviously new. The minute the three friends entered the door, she looked at her screen.

"Are you here on a visit?" she asked.

Claudia snorked, "No, we're here to check him in," she muttered, loud enough for Pete and Myka to hear, though too low for the receptionist.

Myka glared at her as Pete elbowed her.

"We're here to see Casey Rankin," she told the receptionist.

The woman tapped a few keystrokes on her computer, evidently searching for the name. "I don't think we have any current resident by that name," she replied apologetically.

"Was there a Casey Rankin staying here recently?" Pete asked.

The woman searched a few more things on her computer. She brightened, "Yes! he was here a few years ago, and stayed until three months ago."

"Do you know where he went?" Myka asked.

The receptionist shook her head. "No, I'm sorry," she replied sympathetically.

"Can you give us the name of the person who checked him in here? I think it might have been his daughter," Myka queried.

"One second," the woman jumped to enter the necessary information on her computer. "Well," she said at last, "It appears a Sheila and Britney Horne were here to check him in when he first arrived."

Pete and Myka glanced at each other. "Maybe Sheila's married and Britney's her daughter," he concluded.

Myka nodded in agreement and returned to the receptionist, "Thank you so much," she said, "you've been very helpful.'

"I'm sorry he wasn't here," the woman replied, "Good luck finding him, though."

The three friends left the building. Once they were all back in the car, Sheerya emerged from the purse.

"Why wasn't Casey there?" she asked, "Why would he just leave like that?"

All three humans glanced at each other, knowing one possible answer that no one in the car wanted to accept: the reality that Casey just might be dead.

"I don't know," Pete finally answered, "but once we find this Sheila Horne, we might know more about it."

"I'm on it!" Claudia snapped open her laptop and began running a search on the name.

Minutes later, she cried, "Ping!" happily.

"Where to?" Pete asked.

"Umm-" Claudia grinned, "you're not going to believe this, guys, but we need to get back to Rockford."

Myka turned around in her seat, "Illinois? Are you serious?"

Claudia nodded, "Dead serious! Says here Sheila and Britney Horne live in Rockford."

Pete sighed as they merged onto Highway 45. "What are the odds?" He muttered.

Five hours later, they pulled up in front of a small, grey house on the other side of town from where they had met MacPherson.

Pete looked at the others, "Are we ready to do this?"

Sheerya dove into Myka's purse. "Ready!" she chimed.

Claudia grinned, "So ready!" she gushed.

The woman who answered the door looked more like Dani than Casey. She was not much older than the young woman in the photo, which surprised the agents.

"Mrs. Horne?" Myka began.

The young woman shook her head, "Mrs. Horne isn't... _here_ any more. I'm her daughter, Britney."

Pete stepped forward, "Does Casey Rankin live here?"

Britney visibly blanched. "Umm," she responded, obviously stalling for some reason, "Why-why would I know that name?"

Myka was surprised at her attitude, "We know he is your grandfather, and that you and your mother checked him into the Blithedale Sanatorium five years ago," she confronted Britney, who backed away, looking slightly fearful and not a little suspicious.

"Wha-How did...Who _are _you people?" She gasped.

"Secret Service," Pete replied curtly, as he and Myka pulled out their badges, "I am Agent Lattimer, and this is Agent Bering. We have a few questions for your grandfather. Is he here?"

Britney smacked her forehead. "Secret Service? What, Grandpa Casey said something that got back to the President?"

Claudia shivered and hugged herself as a brisk wind blew down the street.

"Can we come in, Britney?" Myka asked.

"Sure," she stepped back to allow them to enter, "don't let me stop the government. What did my Grandpa say?"

She led them into the small living room, and Pete, Myka, and Claudia sat together on the sofa while Britney took her seat in an armchair on the other side of the coffee table. She stared at them wide-eyed and anxious. Myka sought to reassure her.

"You're not in any trouble, Britney-"

"But it sounds like Grandpa is... or _was._"

"Was?" Pete echoed, "Where is Mr. Rankin?"

Britney shrugged. "Six feet under the ground in a cemetery in Watersmeet. He died three months ago, so the kindly folks at Blithedale buried him and sent us a letter and his effects." She bit her lip, and everyone fell into uncomfortable silence.

"Oh, Britney," Myka ventured, "I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," the woman snapped shortly. "He... he lived a good life, and his last years weren't the best anyway."

"Now," Pete continued, "you said your mother didn't live here either. Where is she?"

Britney stared out the window without speaking for a very long time. Finally, she spoke, "My mom? Well, that was five years ago, I believe. She... It was late at night and she had a choice of being a DUI casualty or a DUI convict." Britney pressed her lips and sighed as tears began to form in her eyes. She looked at Peter as the tears built enough to trickle down her cheeks. "She chose casualty," the woman pronounced shortly.

"Wait," Myka realized, "was your... Was Sheila alive when you checked your grandpa into the sanatorium?"

Britney looked down at her hands, "No," she whispered, "she wasn't. I brought my grandpa there myself, and since I was only eighteen at the time, I had a friend of mine pose as my mother for all the legal stuff."

Myka's jaw dropped, "But that's-"

"I had the responsibilities legally transferred to me when I turned twenty-one!" Britney defended herself, "It's all okay now, nobody has to know this." Her chin quivered as she tried to suppress her emotions. "I just knew I couldn't-couldn't take care of Grandpa myself. He needed help, okay?" Her eyes beseeched each person in turn. "Grandpa Casey went crazy when Grandma died." Her voice caught between words, and she gasped as the sobs rose in her throat, "He would say things, do things that weren't... I don't even know how to describe it! He used to be the sanest, kindest, wisest person I knew but... I don't know, it was almost as if Grandma was his tether to reality, and without her..." Britney's voice faded to a whisper again as more tears spilled from her eyes, "Without her, he just..._snapped._ Started spouting off, wandering around, talking to people..." She shook her head and looked at the two agents. "Have you ever seen that Jimmy Stewart movie, _Harvey_?"

Pete sat up straight in recognition, "Oh yeah! The one with the guy and the invisible rabbit?" He furrowed his brow and tried his best Jimmy Stewart impression, "The name's Dowd; Elwood P. Dowd."

Britney smiled through her tears, and Myka detected genuine fondness for her grandpa. "That's what he was like after Grandma died. He was still so incredibly happy, but the things he said were just so... _random! _He would spout off in the most cheerful way about the one time when he almost got eaten by a dragon, or explain in the most casual way about the best way to maintain your balance on a unicorn if you are shrunk to fairy size!" Britney grabbed a tissue from a box nearby and dabbed her eyes. "It never seemed to occur to him that no one understood him. He was so-"

"Untethered?" Claudia supplied, and Myka shot her a glance.

Britney shook her head, "I guess you could say that. After Mom died, my friend helped me move him out of his house and into the sanatorium, and I've lived here in Rockford ever since."

"Did you ever visit him?" Myka asked.

Britney nodded, a bit calmer now. "Once, when I was twenty-one, to get all the legal stuff transferred, I went out to Blithedale to handle it all. He was as senile as ever. He sat me down and very seriously promised to tell me 'everything,' he said. 'It's all in those manuscripts,' he told me as he handed me two stacks of paper. 'The whole story of my adventures from the very beginning.'"

"What adventures?" Pete inquired.

Britney shrugged, "His adventures with the fairies and the giants and the dragons and the unicorns, I guess! It looked like a fantasy novel to me; I didn't really read all of it."

Pete shook his head, "But it's your grandpa's stuff, I mean, why not?"

Britney frowned at him, "Agent Lattimer, I am a librarian with a degree in History. I know the sort of topics that belong in the Fiction section, and Non-fiction. Now, that Academy my grandpa went to? Non-Fiction, definitely; even though it doesn't exist any more, I know it did at one time. The fairy-land he described? _Fiction_!" She chuckled, "Fairies and gryphons do not exist. Dragons, well, they might actually have been dinosaurs or descendants thereof that survived into the middle ages before the knights made them officially extinct, and giants? The tallest one is just over eight feet tall and lives in Russia! _Not _the sixty-foot-plus beings that Grandpa thought he saw! There are no such things!"

"If I had a dollar for every time I heard _that!" _Claudia mumbled, and Myka gave her a more urgent glare.

Pete, however, shook his head at Britney, "I'm sorry, but in _our _line of work," he chuckled, "there's no such thing as 'no such thing.'"

"What?" Britney furrowed her brow curiously, "What's that supposed to mean? Aren't you Secret Service?"

Pete flinched as he realized what he just said, but now there was no way around it. "Actually," he tried to cover without saying too much, "it's more like Secret _Agent_."

Britney drew her head up and raised her eyebrows, "You're kidding, right?" she asked skeptically.

Myka took over, bringing the conversation back to a more businesslike focus. "Britney, we believe your grandfather might have been onto something, and we can find out what it was, but we need you to trust us."

Britney raised her hands, "All right, fine, just- For the record," she pointed to the agents, "you are freaking me out right now. You are starting to sound like my grandfather."

"Britney, we want to show you something," Pete began after a shared look between him and Myka during which she had glanced down at her purse significantly. "But first you'll need some of this." He pulled out an envelope of fairy dust, and Britney-not knowing what it was-watched him pour the mysterious powder onto a piece of paper.

"What is that stuff?" she asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"Put it on your ears and your tongue," Pete directed, sliding the paper toward her.

Britney cautiously daubed some on her fingertip. She sniffed it, "Is it drugs?"

"No, it's not drugs," Myka informed her, "if you want to understand, you need to trust us and do what we say."

Britney rolled her eyes. "Ok, fine." She tapped a bit in her ears and licked the rest off her finger.

Immediately, as they had all done before, her eyes began to water, her face turned bright red, and she pressed her fist against her mouth as she choked and coughed and fanned her face with her other hand. Britney jumped up and immediately ran to the kitchen for a glass of water.

While she was out of the room, Sheerya hollered from Myka's purse, "Can I come out now?"

Myka heard Britney's coughs subsiding, and nodded, "You can come out of the purse, but stay hidden for now."

Just as Sheerya emerged, Britney returned to the doorway, remarking as she entered, "You know, I have no idea what that stuff was, but it tasted _nast-_" She stopped and shrieked, stumbling into the room with wide eyes.

"Oh-Oh my gosh!" She gasped, staring at Pete and Myka. "It was a hallucinogenic, wasn't it? You _drugged _me, and now I am hallucinating!"

Pete glanced down to make sure Sheerya was out of sight, while Myka asked Britney, "What makes you say that?"

The young woman sat down quickly. "We were _just _talking about how Grandpa would ramble on about fairies, I _just _established that I didn't think fairies existed, and I _just freaking saw one crawl out of your purse!"_ Britney covered her face with her hands, "What is happening to me?"

Myka sighed, "It's not a hallucination, Britney." She beckoned to Sheerya, who slowly flew out from behind her purse. Britney Horne looked on in shock and fear.

"Wha-How...That-Wh-" Britney stammered as Sheerya flew closer. She glanced back at Pete and Myka, "This is real, right? I mean, you're seeing this too, right?"

Pete nodded, and Britney resumed staring at the tiny fairy in front of her.

"You...You're-Sheerya, aren't you?" she breathed.

"Yes," Sheerya replied.

Britney seemed surprised to hear her speak English. "You know-I mean, you speak-Wait, that powder... was fairy dust, wasn't it?"

Sheerya bobbed up and down, "Yes it was."

Britney quickly stood and pointed to Pete and Myka. "I-I'm going to go get Grandpa's manuscripts for you. I'll be right back." She pointed nervously at Sheerya, "You, um, you..._stay." _She darted out of the room and up the stairs, heading for the attic.

Pete rubbed the back of his neck and looked dubiously at Myka.

"You sure it was a good idea to show her Sheerya?" he murmured.

Myka glanced at him. "I knew how she felt," she explained, "because that's how I first felt about the Warehouse. She just needed to know that Casey _wasn't _crazy, that she could still believe everything he said. She wanted to; she just didn't know how. I think we helped her decide."

Britney returned minutes later, carrying a small box of stuff. "This isn't everything, of course," she acknowledged, "but this box has the manuscripts in it." She pulled out two stacks of paper, "Here they are."

Pete and Myka accepted the documents and glanced at the titles. One was called "_Fairies Under Glass_" and the other, "_Return to Phantasm_."

Britney kept casting awkward glances at Sheerya, and she blushingly fidgeted with her hair. "Well, I hate to rush off, but I kind of have a dinner date I need to get ready for. You can keep those if they will help you. Just return them when you're done with them; they're the only copy I have, and now that I know that this stuff might be real, well..." she trailed off and chuckled nervously.

Claudia winked at her, "You have a boyfriend?" she asked with a mischievous smile.

Britney shook her head, "Not yet, anyway; it's a blind date, so I have no idea who this guy is, but he's with my best friend-the one who agreed to pose as Mom with me-her husband's best friend. I don't know anything about him, and I don't really date much, so I'm _super _nervous."

Pete stood, and everyone else followed his lead, "Well then, I guess we'll take these and let you get ready." He held out his hand and Britney shook it. "Thanks for your help."

"Oh," Britney responded earnestly, "Thank _you, _for showing me that my grandpa wasn't as crazy as-as everyone thought he was. I would love to help you in any way I can, just let me know." She looked at Sheerya, who had settled on Claudia's shoulder, "It was good to meet you; Grandpa always talked about you, that's how I knew who you were," she told the fairy.

"Good to meet you too," Sheerya replied.

On her way out, Myka slipped a card into Britney's hand. "Here's our numbers, Pete's and mine. If you find out anything else about your grandpa that might help, or if you just need to talk, don't hesitate to call us."

"Thank you, I will," Britney said. She dropped the card into her purse. "Anything in particular I should look for?"

Myka attempted to remain casual. "Not really; anything will do. We're actually hoping to find a chain of some sort with some connection to Phantasm."

Britney looked puzzled, but she nodded, "Phantasmian chain? Got it."

"Oh," Myka stopped and turned back, "Britney, do you know a guy named Doug MacPherson?"

Britney frowned and shook her head. "No, I don't."

Myka smiled and patted her shoulder, "Good luck on your date."

Britney blushed, "Thanks."

Once they were back in the car, Myka called Artie on the Farnsworth and informed him of the recent developments.

"Have you found out anything more on your end?" she asked the old curator.

Artie shook his head, "Nope, just come on back as quick as you can." He ended the call abruptly.

Back at the Warehouse, all four friends busily combed over Casey's stories. "Fairies Under Glass" told of Casey's initial encounter with the Phantasmian creatures, and of how he rescued them from the clutches of the cruel Krasimir Schlimme, who captured the Phantasmians and put them on display for money. When the adventure finished and all the Phantasmians (except Sheerya) had returned to their homeworld, the Phantasmagyth shattered, leaving two shards and a bit of the Chain with Casey, who attached a piece of each to a watch (which he occasionally wore) and a ring (which he kept hidden). "Return to Phantasm" recounted how, ten years later, Pierson's portal machine had drawn Danielle Rankin into Phantasm, and Casey and Sheerya both went to Phantasm to rescue her, and ended up rescuing both Phantasm and several other humans whom Pierson had captured in his search for the shards of the Phantasmagyth that Casey had.

Sheerya chatted busily away the whole time, providing firsthand commentary on everything.

"Oh yeah!" she cried when somebody remarked on the part when Casey discovered fresh-grown _misti,_ spherical houses fairies build for themselves, growing inside his closet where he had hidden the fairies he rescued from Krasimir Schlimme's art exhibit. "That was _so _funny! The smell was really strong for a whole week. The poor guy was miserable!"

Pete chuckled at Casey's description of his reaction to the fairy dust, which he had tasted first, not knowing what it was.

Artie read over Casey's conversations with Sheerya, and his accounts of her seemingly never-ending shenanigans. He groaned.

Myka noticed an eerie similarity between the way Krasimir Schlimme dealt with the Phantasmian creatures and the way they had discovered Sheerya. She also, in the second story, noted that some of Pierson's inventions which Casey described had been in Doug MacPherson's house when they visited him! She recalled the device that looked like a metal tarantula, and realized that this invention was the base of a vacuum-like robot Pierson invented. She shook her head at Casey's description of Phantasmian merfolk as tall creatures not half-man-half-fish as in every representation she had ever seen, but as beings too fishlike to be termed human, and too human to be termed fish: scaly bodies streamlined like a fish's, but with arms and legs like a human; with fins for underwater propulsion and gills like a fish, yet the arrangement of the face (lips under the gill-slits, bulbous eyes at the top) similar to a human. These and other vivid descriptions amazed her.

When everyone had finished both stories, Pete asked Artie, "So, now what does this mean for our dilemma?"

"What _is _our dilemma?" Claudia wondered.

"Our initial dilemma," Artie began, "was figuring out how Sheerya arrived, and why. Based on the information we have, I think it might have something to do with Pierson MacPherson's machine, since the only other device mentioned in connection to the portal between the worlds is the Phantasmagyth, and obviously, half of that has been in the warehouse for the last two months."

"But I thought the machine broke down," Myka objected.

"Yeah," Pete sided with her, "and besides, if the machine is in Phantasm, how could Doug operate it?"

"Dude!" Claudia burst out, "He doesn't even know about his great-grandpa's stuff, how could he even _know _the machine exists?"

Artie grinned and raised a finger, "When a normal person can't explain something, what is left for us to assume?"

The three agents looked at each other and chorused, "Artifact."

"But I thought it was Krasimir's chain, and I doubt Doug even knows anything about him. What else could the artifact be?" Myka inquired. She looked at Pete, "Did you get any Artifact-ish vibes at his house?"

Pete reflected on this, "Well, other than the bad juju coming from the table-which as we know now, turns out to be a bunch of fairies in little white envelopes-, I didn't really notice anything else. I mean, could it be one of the things he had on display?"

"Pierson's inventions?" Artie clarified, "No, none of those had any function or connection with the machine beyond a common inventor." He sighed and rubbed his bearded chin, "I think there's something here that we're all missing. Let's all take a copy of these stories, and everyone comb over it _thoroughly,_ looking for anything that could possibly lead to a connection between Doug and Phantasm (if there is one), and we'll meet again in the morning."

"Sure thing, Artie!" Pete promised for everyone.

"Wait!" Sheerya cried, "Where do I sleep?"

Artie thought for a moment, then shrugged, "I guess she can sleep here."

"Do I have to sleep in this big huge room all by myself?"

Artie shook his head, "I'll be here to keep you company."

"You sleep here?" Sheerya returned, "Where's your bed?"

"Well, I don't really sleep, just a nap in the chair if I'm tired. I'll be here all night, though."

"Okay," Sheerya complied.

"Go ahead and make yourself comfortable," Artie told the little fairy, but stopped and raised a finger, "but _no misti._ I don't want anything messing or smelling up this office, do you hear me?"

Sheerya sighed, "Boy are you grumpy! All right, fine, I won't make a misti. It's not like I'm going to have to be here for very long anyway."

"Good night, you two!" Myka called as they headed out the door to Leena's.


	7. Chapter 7: First and Second Dates

_Meanwhile, at a diner in Rockford... _

Britney Horne scanned the crowd anxiously for a familiar face. Finally, she located her friend Sarah Rymes. Two men stood next to Sarah as the woman waved to Britney. The first man Britney vaguely recognized as Sarah's husband Ted. The second man must be Ted's friend.

Sarah grabbed Britney's elbow as she neared them. "You made it!" the woman cried jubilantly. "Britney, I want you to meet a good buddy of Ted's, Doug MacPherson. Doug, this is Britney, the girl I told you about."

Doug extended a hand toward her, his hazel eyes twinkling pleasantly under his soft, brown hair that hung over his forehead. "Pleasure to meet you," he said, with an accent not quite American.

Britney blushed, "Hi, I'm nervous!" she exclaimed. "I mean-I'm Britney," she stammered, "Um, good to meet you, too."

Sarah chuckled at their awkwardness. "Well, Ted and I are going to order drinks at the bar. Why don't you two take a seat here at the table and talk amongst yourselves? We'll be back later." She winked at Britney.

Doug politely pulled out a chair for Britney before sitting down himself. They ordered appetizers and ate in silence for a while, conversation consisting mostly of comments on the quality of the food.

Britney finished eating and shyly stared at her lap before she realized that Doug was patiently waiting for her to begin the conversation. "So," she said brightly, lifting her eyes and looking at him, "you have a cool accent; where are you from, Doug?"

Doug grinned, "I live on the other side of town, actually."

Britney blinked, "You _do_?"

Doug chuckled at her reaction, "Yeah; my parents-well, my dad's from Scotland, hence the accent, but my mum's American, and so am I."

"That's amazing!" Britney cried. "Have you ever been back to Scotland?"

Doug shook his head, "I dream of going there one day, but I haven't been able to yet. Travel costs money, you know."

Britney laughed lightly, "Ah, yes; there are so many places I would love to go if one could travel for free!"

"I'd explore the world," Doug remarked.

Britney clasped her hands in mock elation. "Take me with you!" she cried.

The couple, becoming fast friends, laughed together.

"So tell me about yourself, Britney," Doug continued, "What do you do?"

"I'm a librarian," Britney answered.

"Ah! You like books a lot, do you?"

"Oh yes! Especially old ones, even though there aren't many of those on the library shelves these days."

Doug smiled and brushed a clump of brown hair out of his face. "Oh, a history-lover!"

Britney laughed, "History _major_, to be exact. Call me old-fashioned, but I love the way life used to be, the things we used to have."

"So you're the type that would be right at home in a museum, eh?" Doug ascertained.

Britney nodded, "You'd better believe it!"

Doug shook his head, "I have a lot of that stuff at my house, if you wanted to see it. A bunch of old stuff from my great-grandfather. He was an inventor, you know, though his machines never amounted to much, I guess."

Britney's eyes lit up, "That sounds awesome! I'd love to!"

Doug nodded, "We'll have to take your car because I came with the Rymes'." The pair glanced toward the bar, where Sarah and Ted still chatted away, not appearing to have any intention of joining them like Sarah had originally expressed.

"That's fine," Britney said, rising from the table.

She and Doug made their way over to the Rymes', and Britney told her friend, "Doug wants to show me some of the stuff he has at his house. We're taking my car."

Sarah looked doubtful, but Ted nodded, "He's got tons of antiques there; almost like being in a museum, which is right up your alley, isn't it, Britney?"

Britney nodded with a smile.

"Thanks for inviting us along," Doug said, "Good night!"

"Have fun, you two!" Sarah called after them.

Britney led Doug to where she had parked, and handed him the keys. "I'll let you drive, since I don't know where we're going."

Doug smiled, "Fair enough," he accepted the keys and held the passenger door open for Britney.

As they pulled away from the diner and Doug began steering down the streets toward his house, Britney suddenly looked up in realization.

"Oh!" she cried, "You're Doug..." She faltered when he glanced at her with a puzzled expression.

"I am," he said slowly, not understanding the outburst, "why do you say that, just now? Have we met before?"

Britney felt her cheeks get hot, and she could not look at or even toward Doug. "No, I just-it was... Oh, never mind."

"All right," Doug responded. He made another turn and pulled up in front of his house. "This is it," he said, "Are you ready?"

"Thrill me, Doug," was Britney's heartfelt reply.

Doug led Britney into his home, and she gasped at the quantity of strange, antique objects he displayed in his home.

"This is amazing!" she breathed, examining all the wonderful, yet oddly unidentifiable machines on shelves and in cases, or hung from brackets on the wall. "Your great-grandfather must have been some inventor; what do these inventions do?"

Doug rubbed his neck, "See, there's the rub; I haven't a clue, and anyway, most of the gears and running mechanisms are all deteriorated on most of the things anyway. I have figured out..." he picked up a piece that looked like a small, metal egg, "this one. When you throw it up, like this..." he tossed the egg high in the air. The instant it began to fall, Britney heard it _click _and the egg split in half horizontally, revealing a tiny propeller system that began spinning, allowing the small, flying machine to float gently toward the ground. Doug put out his hand and caught it, and as soon as the egg was still, the propellers retracted with a _snap_, and the mechanism was exactly as it had been before.

Britney shook her head, "This was your great-grandfather, you say? That must have been, what year?"

"He lived during the late nineteenth century, died in early 1900's," Doug replied.

Britney shook her head, "I had no idea anyone could conceive of this technology in that time period! I think even cameras were still a new concept. How could he invent a flying machine like this one?" She gazed around the shelves until her eye fell on a device that looked like a metal spider. "What does this one do?" She handed it to Doug.

He chuckled, "Ah, now, this one... watch this." He set the spider on the top of the small bureau in the hallway, twisted a small knob at the back a few times, and the spider began skittering its rusted, aged, creaking, way across the flat surface.

"But what's the hole in the middle for?" Britney asked, once the device stopped moving.

"I really can't say," Doug admitted. "The only one who would know anything about that is my grandfather, and I never really knew him."

Britney gazed happily around the hallways hung with various other robotic specimens, marveling that one man in Scotland could envision such mysterious things. "These are all family heirlooms, then?"

"A lot of them are," Doug affirmed, moving toward a glass case containing a remarkably well-preserved tan waistcoat, "Like this one; did you know this vest was one my great-grandfather used to wear all the time?"

Britney's eyes widened, and she chuckled, "Who's his tailor?" she joked.

"A few of the little machines were even on display in a museum in Michigan, but my dad tracked them down and bought them so he could-"

"Display them in his own house?" Britney finished with a giggle. She admired the waistcoat. Something protruded out of the pocket; Britney squinted for a closer look: a green leaf extended just beyond the top of the pocket. Britney's eyes wandered to the fob chain extending so fashionably from the pocket to the middle of the vest, like a fob. Britney felt an electric shock down her spine as she realized that the chain was no fob.

"Unlike anything I've ever seen..." she murmured under her breath, remembering Myka's comment.

"What was that?" Doug asked, bringing Britney back to the present.

Britney blinked and flinched, "Oh! Nothing."

Doug accepted this, and offered, "I am going into the kitchen for a glass of water, do you want some?"

Britney nodded absently, "Sure."

As soon as Doug was gone, Britney immediately set about inspecting the glass case. She was pretty sure now that this was the chain the agents had been looking for, even if she didn't know why, or how Doug could have gotten it. Had they already been to question him, and ruled it out? They obviously knew of him before they knew of her. Why?

Britney finally gave up the search; there seemed to be no way into the case, and no secret panels of any sort. Short of perhaps lifting the entire case and searching along the very bottom of it, there was no easy way in. Britney heard a rattling sound coming from the kitchen. Slowly, she made her way down the hall.

"Doug?" she called, entering the kitchen.

He turned quickly, "Oh, Britney." He handed her a glass.

Britney saw an orange pill bottle on the counter behind him. "What's that?" she asked suspiciously.

Doug snatched up the bottle, "This?" he faltered, "Oh, that's just some meds... for insomnia."

Britney cocked an eyebrow, "I've known some insomniacs in my life; you don't really strike me as the type."

Doug shrugged, "It's a recent thing. These last three months I've just had some sleepwalking episodes and some really weird dreams. I just didn't want to end up hurting myself, so the doctor gave me some mild sleep meds to keep it under control. That's all they are."

"Do they work?" Britney asked.

Doug sighed, "I still wake up in weird places around the house from time to time, but nothing like that horrific dream I had a while back."

"Horrific?"

Doug suddenly looked embarrassed, and Britney felt bad for making him so. "Never mind, I shouldn't have asked-"

"No, it's okay," Doug reassured her, "It was just one of those dreams where I killed some animal, and then a bunch of them were chasing me..." he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, "I ended up in the hall outside my room. But that sort of thing hasn't happened since." A strange look came over Doug's face, but after a moment he shrugged and his expression cleared.

"Okay," Britney nodded, not sure how else to end the conversation. "Um, I really should be getting home now."

Doug nodded, "Sure; it's been a great night. Good to meet you, Britney."

Britney smiled, "Good to meet you, too, Doug." She turned to leave the kitchen.

"Britney?"

Instantly she returned to the doorway, "Yes?"

Doug moved forward and took her hand, "I would really like to see you again. Do you want to meet for coffee on Thursday? What time do you go to work?"

Britney grinned, "I open the library every morning at six."

Doug considered this for a moment, "I will bring you coffee at the library at six on Thursday, then!" he proposed.

"Sounds good to me!" Britney agreed.

The pair hugged.

"See you then, Britney," Doug told her, "Good night."

"Good night, Doug." Britney responded.

After watching Britney pull out of his driveway and down the street, Doug turned to head up to his own bed as he felt the sleeping pills beginning to take effect. He paused briefly at the bottom of the stairs to stare at the waistcoat in the glass case. There was always something about that particular item that seemed to draw his attention, but he could never figure out what it was. Three months ago, when he had first brought it into his house, he had assumed it was just a new conversation piece from his grandfather. Lately, it had come to him that it could be something more... but he had no idea what that could mean.

Doug shook his head and continued up the stairs to his bedroom.

That Thursday, Britney had just turned on the lights at the Rockford library and had begun to sort the books from the carts to the shelves, when she heard someone knocking at the front door. The entrance to the library consisted of two sets of windowed doors, with windows on both sides and a wide atrium between them. She peered through the inner set of doors to see across the atrium and through the doors on the other side. She could barely make out the silhouette of a man in the grey light of dawn. The man knocked again. He lifted his arms, and Britney made out the shape of a cup in his hand. On a hunch, she glanced up at the wall clock over the Children's Reading Nook: six o'clock sharp. It was Doug! He had come as promised! Britney laughed as she pushed open the inner door, crossed the atrium, and unlocked the front door for him.

"You came!" she cried as Doug smilingly handed her the cup of coffee in his right hand.

"Of course I did," he replied, "Now, where can we sit to enjoy the coffee? It's still too cold outside."

Britney glanced around. There were a few tables set up for reading or eating purposes in the atrium. "Why not right here?" she gestured to the table behind them.

"Good enough for me," Doug nodded, setting his cup down and-as mannerly as ever-pulling out a chair for Britney.

The young librarian enjoyed nearly two hours of pleasant conversation with her new friend before she realized that her coffee cup was empty and there were still books that needed to be shelved. "Doug," She laid a hand on his, "I've really enjoyed this; this is the most fun I've had opening the library since I first started working here."

Doug clasped her hand, "I'm glad you've enjoyed it, because I have, too. You're an interesting girl, Britney Horne!"

Britney laughed, "Oh, is that a compliment?"

Doug gazed at her genuinely, "Coming from the guy who rarely takes an interest in anything biological, least of all people, it is. I like you, Britney, a lot. You're smart but you don't flaunt it, you're pretty but you don't flirt, and-"

"You date cute guys when no one's looking!" a voice interrupted them. Britney and Doug looked up as a colleague of Britney's suddenly walked through the front door.

"Sharon!" Britney reprimanded the African-American woman, "You shouldn't butt into other people's conversations like that!"

Sharon playfully slapped Britney, "You're gonna date behind my back, you deserve a good butt-in!" She winked at Doug, "So are you going to introduce me, or not?"

Britney rolled her eyes, "Doug, this is my good buddy Sharon; Sharon, this is Doug MacPherson, a friend of Ted Raymes."

"Ted? Sarah's husband, right? Good to meet you, Doug," the woman cheerfully shook Doug's hand. "Are you new in town?"

Doug shook his head, "Actually, I've lived here for several years now; my family lived in a house just on the other side of town."

Sharon cast a concerned glance a the pair, "You have a family?" she asked, clearly worried.

Doug guessed where her anxiousness lay and reassured her, "Since my folks died, it's just me at home. That's why Ted suggested I meet some of his wife's friends, see if anything happens."

Sharon raised her eyebrows in relief, "Oh... So then you met Britney."

Britney stood up and threw her coffee cup in the trash, "Sharon, you say that like it's a bad thing!" she chided her co-worker.

"Why would it be a bad thing?" Sharon retorted, "You're the experiment by the friends of a fella who just lost his parents! I just have one question for Orphan Doug."

Doug braced himself and asked, "What is that?"

Sharon looked him straight in the eye and said, "I'm single and available, too! Are there more guys like you, and where do they hang out?"

"Sharon!" Britney remonstrated her friend.

Doug just laughed, "I'm sure there are plenty of guys like me, Sharon. I like coffee shops and libraries-"

Sharon snapped her fingers, "Oh, glory to heaven, I _knew _I had my dream job!"

"Neither of us will have it any more if we hang around her much longer," Britney observed. "There are still plenty of books to be shelved before people start coming."

Sharon glanced from Britney to Doug, "Tell you what, I'll get started on that, and let you two say goodbye." She didn't give them time to respond before she disappeared.

Britney and Doug smiled at each other.

"I'd say that was pretty good for a first date," Britney told him.

Doug looked hopeful, "You liked it? Can we make it a regular thing?"

"You bringing me coffee every morning? Sure!"

Doug nodded, "Sounds good! See you tomorrow, Britney!"

"Good bye, Doug," Britney waved as Doug exited the building.

"I'll tell you what," Sharon remarked as they shelved books and allocated held books for the members, "that new boyfriend of yours is really something! Where was the first place he took you, like by yourselves?"

"Back to his house-" Britney stopped as she recalled the events of that night, and the things she had observed. She handed the books in her hands to Sharon as a few people began to drift through the doors. "Could you finish up and cover for me for a few minutes? I need to go make a call."

"Sure thing," Sharon replied.

Britney ducked into the back office, knowing she was safe behind the door marked "Employees Only." She pulled out her phone and the card Agent Bering had given her the day she met Doug. She dialed Myka's number.

Myka heard her cellphone ringing and checked the clock: seven in the morning. Who could be calling? The number was not one she recognized. She answered her phone.

"Hello?"

"Mika?"

Myka smiled to herself; it was Britney Horne. "Hi Britney, this is Myka." She heard Britney make a small noise as the young woman realized her mistake.

"Oh, um, I just wanted to call and let you know how... how my date went," Britney explained.

Myka wondered why she sounded so hesitant, "Oh, that's cool," she responded, furiously rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she sat up. "How did it go? Who did you meet? Was it as scary as you thought it would be?"

Britney laughed, "Oh no! Not at all! He's a really great guy, but... Myka-"

"What?"

"He's Doug MacPherson, believe it or not."

Myka nearly dropped the phone, _"What?"_


	8. Chapter 8: A Problem and A Portal

Later that morning, Myka reported the rest of Britney's conversation to the team. "She said that she saw a chain hanging from the waistcoat in the hall, but that it was in a sealed glass case. She didn't see an easy way to get it."

"Plus, we don't know if that's the old chain or the new one," Artie noted.

"But it has to be one of them!" Sheerya cried, "If Doug has been going to Phantasm, he had to have used the chain somehow to get there!"

"Maybe the chain was just active on its own," Pete suggested.

Sheerya flew loops in the air, "No, no! There's something else we're missing. The chain cannot activate on its own, and in order for someone to cross through the portal, the chain must make contact with a wooden surface-"

"Oh! The wainscoting behind the case!" Myka cried.

"-and the subject must have physical contact with the chain!"

"Oh..." everyone sighed.

"Well," Claudia inserted, "Why does it matter which chain he has? We know it has to be one of them, so we can just neutralize it anyway, right?"

Sheerya bounced around the table decorations. "If you do that, I can't get home. The real Chain cannot be neutralized or you'll have no way to activate the portal again. Besides, as much as I love it here, at least we need to focus on getting the Phantasmagyth back, because at any time in your history, there might be evil men seeking to access Phantasm, and the Phantasmagyth's presence here on earth makes it vulnerable to anyone, anywhere, at any time."

"You mean, regardless of when in history the Phantasmagyth is brought to earth," Artie clarified, "as long as it is here, anyone in our history can access Phantasm?"

"Yes," Sheerya answered, "Our time doesn't run the same course as yours does. Remember when Casey and Dani went to Phantasm? We met other humans from other years, but we were all in Phantasm at the same time."

Artie raised his bushy grey eyebrows, "That's incredible," he commented. His eyes lit up, and the three other humans knew what was coming. "A time-space-continuum theory! Two separate worlds, in separate time continuums, receive contact points in one person." He grinned at his bored-looking co-workers, "Scientists are only just beginning to try and discover this. Once a person makes contact into another continuum, see, that becomes the starting point for the timeline in that world for that person. Just like we can't go back in history, neither can that person, even though it may be before or after, say, another person from the same time, accesses the second continuum."

Pete, Myka, and Claudia all looked at each other. "Artie!" they chorused.

The older man pressed his lips and covered them with his fingertips. "I'm sorry,' he apologized quickly.

Myka pushed her bangs off her forehead. "Okay, so Britney's really nervous, now that she's made the connection that the guy she's beginning a relationship with is one we mentioned first. What should I tell her? Does she need to know that Doug might potentially be dangerous?"

Artie furrowed his brow. "Why? What's he done to her?"

Myka shrugged, "Well, so far he's invited her to his house, brought her coffee one morning-"

Artie shook his head, "Well, I don't see how these could be dangerous acts. See, Myka, Doug likes Britney. He would not intentionally harm her in any way. However, he is scared of us, so there is a potential he will turn out our enemy, especially since we are the ones who know what he might be up to. I say, let her continue to date him, find out about him; meanwhile, we will try to piece things together from our end, and hopefully we can find out what's really going on without having to add stress to Britney's life." Artie crossed his arms and a caring look came into his eye. "Think about it: Britney's a realist; she professes to be interested in facts and logic. Really, deep down, she's just a trusting girl looking for someone or something to put her faith in. Think about it: her mother killed herself, her dad spends his days at work, and her grandparents were the ones whom everyone thought were crazy. Britney needs to believe in Doug, at least for a while. Plus, it wouldn't hurt for him to trust her enough to maybe tell her things he never told us, either."

Myka nodded, accepting the truth of this, "Okay, I'll let her know she has nothing to worry about."

"Hmph, _yet_," Claudia snorted.

Later that night, back in Rockford, Doug returned from a dinner date with Britney completely satisfied. He considered himself lucky to have met a girl like Britney; it wasn't only that their tastes were so similar, but Doug was finding out that he even enjoyed just hanging around her. Of course, he still had a job that kept him from hanging around the library (at least from eight to five), but as soon as he was finished, he had immediately called and invited her to have dinner with him. She had accepted immediately. Doug's smile faltered as he remembered how much more hesitant she had seemed at dinner than when he had brought her coffee that morning, but he shook his head; her hesitance had worn off very quickly, and they had enjoyed a wonderful conversation. Yes, Britney was a very special girl. _And I'm a lucky guy to have her for a friend, _Doug thought as he drifted off to sleep.

Two hours later, the clock switched from 12:59 to 1:00, and Doug's eyes snapped open, though his consciousness still slumbered. In an episode of sleepwalking, Doug traveled out of his bedroom, down the stairs, and straight to the glass case containing MacPherson's vest. "Ah yes, old friend," he murmured in a strange, disembodied voice, "you won't outsmart me for long."

Still soundly asleep and completely unaware of what he was doing, Doug knelt in front of the case. The glass had been seamless, but what Britney had missed was that one of the protrusions in the ornate carving of the base was in fact a button that, when pressed, opened a compartment within the case containing a very strong magnet. This magnet easily attracted the metal chain, and Doug could then pull out the knob to withdraw the magnet and the chain from the case. A smile worked across his face as he grasped the chain. "Phantasmagyth," he murmured, "_sumana baski mentra tsik! Da mosat phantasmarangi hwill!"_

The language he spoke, if Doug had been aware of it, did not belong to any civilization that had ever walked the earth. It was an ancient language of Phantasm, known only to the oldest generations of Phantasmian creatures. Doug MacPherson would have no way of knowing that language, but unbeknownst to him he had actually spoken this specific command several times over the last few months. As he finished the last word, the wooden trim around the entryway to the front room began twisting and writhing. The space in the doorway fluctuated, as if an invisible curtain waved within it. Doug stood, and with the chain in his hand, he turned to the entryway. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Doug MacPherson vanished completely.

Just outside of Univille, in Leena's Bed and Breakfast, Sheerya snapped awake in a flash of light. "Portal!" she gasped. She flew around the house, looking for some human to inform, but none of them seemed to be awake at all. Sheerya thought furiously; there had to be someone she could tell before the portal closed!

"Wait! Artie doesn't sleep!" she cried to herself. Excited, she searched the house for an available Farnsworth. She found Pete's on his night-stand. Pulling it out, the small fairy flew with it down to the sitting room. She lifted the heavy lid and excitedly jumped on the call button.

It rang several times before Artie's face appeared on the screen, madly blinking what brief sleep he had gotten out of his eyes. "Wha-what? Who's there?" he asked, leaning over the screen.

Sheerya flew circles around the screen, fluttering her wings in agitation. "Artie! It's me!" she chimed.

"What? Sheerya? Is that you? Hold still, I can't see you when you're flying around like that!"

"Sorry!" Sheerya planted herself on the table in front of the mechanism.

"That's better; now, what could you possibly want from me in the _middle of the night?_"

Sheerya sighed, "I'm sorry, I just thought you didn't sleep so I could call you and tell you that I felt a portal open!"

"A _what_?" Artie asked.

"A portal! As in the gateway between my world and yours!"

Artie hesitated, "I thought you said those tend to happen a lot when the Phantasmagyth is here on earth."

Sheerya stomped her foot in frustration. "They _do_ happen, but they only open when somebody goes _through _them!"

"Got it," Artie snapped his fingers and turned to his enormous search engine. "If there's a portal to a fantasy world open, it just might show up as an anomaly." He turned back to Sheerya, "Unless you would be able to tell where it was?"

Sheerya shook her head, "I just know it's somewhere in the country at this point. If it wasn't, I wouldn't feel it as strongly. I only know about the portals nearby me; I can't tell the locations of any others."

"Fair enough, okay..." Artie pressed a few more buttons and turned a few more dials. "Somewhere in the U.S..." he activated the scanners, and several small windows of video surveillance popped up. Artie began eliminating the obvious ones. "Maybe if we can see who activated the portal, we can find out which chain they have," he remarked to Sheerya.

"Hurry! The portal's going to close soon!" Sheerya replied.

"I'm hurrying as fast as I can! This machine can only go so fast, you know!" Artie retorted.

"Hey! I know! Check on Doug! Maybe he did it!" Sheerya was so excited she began to flicker brightly.

"Ach! Stop doing that! Okay, Illinois...Rockford...ah, good! he left his cellphone right next to the case!" Using the camera on Doug's phone, Artie scanned the area. The chain was still on the vest, and further inspection revealed Doug himself asleep in an armchair in the sitting room. "It can't be him. His vitals show that he's been asleep for the last two and a half hours. Where else do we check?"

Sheerya hung her head, "Too late! It's already closed. I guess we missed it this time."

Artie felt the sting of her disappointment. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay, you tried; at least we know it's somewhere nearby." Sheerya reassured him. She picked her head up, unable to stay despondent for long. "Hey! Can you show me how you knew he had been asleep? What are 'vitals' and how do they work?"

Artie shook his head, "Oh no! You are going back to bed! I will answer no more questions tonight!" He switched off the Farnsworth.


	9. Chapter 9: What Happened in Ann Arbor

It was a beautiful summer day when Britney Horne opened her window and inhaled the fresh, early-morning scent. She and Doug had been dating steadily over the last three weeks, and she was fairly certain of one thing: she really liked Doug MacPherson. At first she was a bit nervous around him, considering that the mysterious Secret Agents had been asking her about him, but that was just before they showed her the fairy, and besides, they hadn't _really _said he was a criminal or anything like that. Agent Myka proved an excellent friend, calling Britney every once in a while to check up on how their relationship was going, wondering if Doug had ever shared a particular secret or anything like that. Britney willingly told her about Doug's insomnia and somnambulism, and Myka even offered periodic advice, having had relationships of her own, though Britney never quite found out exactly what happened in those relationships.

Today was a special day: their first "month-iversary." In honor of this, Doug was going to take her to Chicago, where they would catch a train to see the Museum of Natural History in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Britney smiled when she heard the familiar rumble of Doug's car. It wasn't that she had been afraid to do things like this all her life; she just desperately wanted someone to enjoy it with, and now she had Doug. He got out of the car to open the door for her.

Doug helped Britney into his car. Walking around to the driver's side, he prepared to unlock his door, when another object fell from his pocket onto the dark asphalt. Doug bent down to pick it up: it was the chain from the waistcoat! How had it gotten into his pocket? For that matter, how had it gotten outside the case? Doug decided to ignore these mysteries for now.

"Ready for some fun?" he asked Britney, getting back behind the wheel.

"You bet!" Britney cried.

The day turned out a perfect success. Britney and Doug spent hours wandering around the museum, and a few other art houses in the area, such as a quaint little space called Snowden House and modern art museum which Britney didn't much care for. As the night came on, they stopped by the Nichols Arboretum to cap off their tour of Ann Arbor. As they began to walk inside, Doug paused.

"You know what?" he said, "I think I would actually rather look for a good place for us to have dinner. What do you say I do that right now, and meet you back here in an hour?"

Britney smiled, "That sounds like a great idea!"

Doug nodded, "All right; any particular food choice I should keep in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know," Britney shrugged, "I'm pretty easy to please; anything that looks good to you is fine with me."

"Sounds good; see you in an hour, Britney!"

An hour later, Britney emerged full of the gorgeous sights of the arboretum at night. Doug was nowhere to be found. Britney hastily dug out her cellphone and dialed his number, but it rang several times and went to voicemail. "Hello, Doug, this is Britney, just letting you know I'm here! Call me back! Bye," Britney snapped her phone shut, hoping that he would call.

Doug, however, was not reachable by anyone on earth at the time. Shortly after leaving Britney, he had felt an oppressive headache, and the compelling urge to sit down. Moments after doing so, he lost consciousness, but to any who saw him, it appeared that the man had stumbled onto a bench, only to spring up quickly and briskly walk back into town, toward the Morgan Museum of Modern Art.

There, he did not follow the normal course of the crowd, but turned suddenly down a hallway that contained no exhibit halls, only doors. He watched a man cross the hall ahead of him, enter a room wearing a suit, and emerge wearing a security uniform. Doug entered the room, which turned out to be the security guards' uniform closet. He selected a uniform and pulled it on over his clothes. He checked the name badge hanging from the pocket. The man in the photo looked nothing like him, but it was a simple matter of searching the other name badges for one that looked similar. He took care to pull the hat low over his eyes. Doug MacPherson strode down to the end of the hall, to a stairwell. A security guard blocked his way.

"How's it going?" He muttered to the guard.

The guard gave him a bored nod and no second glance.

Doug tripped down the stairs unhindered. He used the barcode on the name badge to pass through every checkpoint.

Down in the bowels of the Morgan museum, Doug searched carefully among the crates and retired exhibits, the pieces of art no longer on display, for a specific set. He found what he was looking for: a stack of bizarre creatures stacked around a massive, hulking form that almost looked like a mountain with a single glass eye peering out near its peak.

"The cyclops," he murmured, but Doug MacPherson could not have known. His eyes identified the heaps of goblins and ogres surrounding the behemoth, and at last, they found what they were searching for whilst their owner slept.

"Ah, here you are, my friend." He pulled on a sharp snout, and brushed the multiple layers of dust from the furry back of a savage-looking wolf. Quivering with excitement, he reached into his pocket and drew out a small, gold chain. "Welcome back..." he whispered, draping the chain over the wolf's neck.

With a snarl, the wolf instantly came to life and leapt upon him, snapping savagely.

Doug, though he probably had never seen such a thing before, nonetheless reacted quite indignantly. "Get off me, Adolf, you dumb brute!" he cried with wide eyes. "It is I, your master!"

Adolf the werewolf transformed into a man and sniffed cautiously. "Master? How did you escape?" Doug pushed, and Adolf stood, allowing him to struggle to his feet.

"Never mind that!" Doug snapped, "You have a job to do! Look at my eyes!"

Adolf obediently stared deep into the gaze fixed on him. Even though he recognized neither scent nor appearance, Adolf instantly knew the mesmerizing, steely stare of his master. "What is your will?" the werewolf growled.

"Find the Phantasmagyth and bring it to me!"

"Yes, Master."

When Doug awoke an hour later, he had no idea where he was at first. Then his cellphone beeped. He pulled it out and discovered he had missed a call from Britney. She had called an hour and a half ago. He listened to the message and immediately called her back.

"Britney?"

"Doug! Oh my gosh! I was so worried! Where are you?"

"I'm-" Doug glanced around the bench on which he was sitting, "in the middle of town, across from Snowden House."

"Okay, I'm almost there. Did you find a good place for dinner?"

"Dinner?" Doug rubbed his eyes. For some reason he suddenly felt exhausted, as if he had walked a few miles bearing an incredible weight. "Um, yeah," his eye caught a diner that looked pleasant enough across the way. "It's right over here." He glanced down to a lighted street corner just in time to see Britney emerge, her cellphone against her ear. Doug raised his hand and waved. She saw him and waved back, running up to him.

"When you didn't meet me at the arboretum, I thought for sure something had happened to you!" she cried.

"I guess I must have just fallen asleep," Doug surmised, "I remember having a headache, but it's gone now." He gestured to the diner, "Let's eat!"

"Great!" Britney laughed, "I'm hungry."

After dinner, the two friends hurried to catch the train back to Chicago, and from there drove to Rockford. Doug stopped by the waistcoat, remembering his discovery of the chain, and sure enough, it wasn't there. Yet he had just checked his pockets and found only his keys. Where had the chain gone? Doug shook his head. He'd probably left it in Ann Arbor. Chalking it up to just another fragment of antiquity he wouldn't have to keep track of any more, Doug closed the bedroom door and thought no more of it.


	10. Chapter 10: Which, Where, and Who?

Back in Warehouse 13...

The team was running out of leads, and out of time. Myka kept relaying Britney's updates on the development of her relationship, but so far Doug hadn't told her anything noteworthy.

Though Sheerya provided key information, the books proved a most valuable source for any puzzles they came across, such as the identification of the leaf in the pocket of the waistcoat.

Myka found out that the plant was called _venim_, native to Phantasm, and would preserve the state of anything it touched in the best condition that thing could be, whether it was a person, as in the case of Pierson MacPherson living for one hundred years in Phantasm a limber, clean-shaven man in his 30s, or an object, such as the waistcoat, worn constantly by its 19th-century owner yet never needing any mending or ironing.

"Okay, so in chapter 10 of the first book Casey discovers all about the Phantasmagyth," Myka began, pulling out that paper from the manuscript copy in her hands.

"Right, the part when all the Phantasmians on display in Snowden House suddenly came to life," Pete recalled.

Claudia was busily scanning the page, "I guess we're in the same boat Krasimir Schlimme was in at that point," she remarked.

Myka looked over at her, "What do you mean?"

Claudia highlighted the sentence for her before showing the group, "See here? Krasimir had the gyth and wanted the chain. He knew it wasn't powerful just on its own."

"Wait," Pete gasped, raising his head with a strange expression on his face, "What if Krasimir's still looking for the Chain?"

All movement in the office ceased.

"Still _looking?_" Myka repeated derisively, "No, at the end of the second book Casey says that Schlimme in the bat-suit-"

"_'Being human, though, he probably died long ago, and they threw it out.'" _Pete read the sentence from the manuscript, "It says nothing definite about him dying."

"Dude," Claudia remarked, "he totally could have escaped and nobody would realize it."

"But how do you explain that we can't find him anywhere?" Artie demanded.

"There's still a part of him here, though," Claudia postulated, "the artifact; Krasimir could still be connected to this world by the artifact, and now that the Phantasmagyth is back on Earth, he's going to try to find it one last time."

"That would explain the blackouts Doug's been having!" Myka cried, "Maybe the chain is the one Krasimir made, so every time Doug blacked out, it was because the chain made him channel Krasimir Schlimme!"

"Creepy!" Claudia commented with a grin.

"So _that's _how your artifacts work?" Sheerya asked, coming at last into the conversation from whatever isolated, forgotten corner she'd been exploring. "The inventor or the owner can take over the consciousness of the person in contact with it?"

Artie nodded, "The resulting irregularities of character are sometimes accompanied with an invisible electric current, what we call anomalies."

"Okay, so along those lines," Pete thought furiously, "if Krasimir is looking for the Phantasmagyth-"

"It must be still out there somewhere!" Claudia finished.

"And we've got to get it before he does!" Myka cried.

"But," Sheerya protested, "I thought Doug didn't know anything about the Phantasmagyth or Phantasm, for that matter."

"Right, so he was probably under the influence of Krasimir when he found it."

"But," the fairy continued, "if Krasimir's the one who found it, using Doug, why is Krasimir still looking for it?"

Everyone fell silent.

Artie raised his hands, "There we go, that's our breakthrough: Doug must have woken up before Krasimir could actually find the Phantasmagyth. When Doug is awake and _not _holding the chain, maybe the spirit of Krasimir still thinks that the Phantasmagyth has not been found yet."

"So, Doug could still have it in the house, then!" Myka concluded.

Pete disagreed, "No, I don't think so, especially if Doug found it when he was awake. If I found something that looked like the Phantasmagyth and I had no idea where it came from, I certainly wouldn't keep it around my house!"

"True... He'd probably contact the authorities to find where it came from," Myka suggested.

"Or sell it," Claudia inferred. "Going to the authorities with something like that, you risk finding yourself at the top of the suspect list."

Myka nodded in acceptance. Suddenly she started and her eyes bugged out. "Artie, when and where did you buy the gyth?"

Artie smiled as he caught the gist of Myka's reasoning. "Two months ago-"

"Which was shortly after Doug's somnambulism started..."

"Whoa!" Pete spoke up, "So Krasimir _is _taking over Doug, and using his body to walk different places?"

"Doug must have brought the Phantasmagyth out of Phantasm, and now Krasimir is looking for it!" Claudia cried.

"Where was it, Artie?" Myka demanded.

"A jeweler's auction in-"

"Let me guess," Claudia interrupted, "Illinois?"

"Yeah; he operates out of Chicago but he holds auctions all over the state." He stopped there, but when everyone continued to stare at him, he added, "He's an old buddy of mine, and sometimes he'll come out to Univille and do an auction here."

"And that's where you got the gyth?" Myka verified.

"Yes, that's where I _bought _the gyth," Artie confirmed.

"So what about the other chain? Would this jeweler friend of yours have that too?" Myka asked.

Artie shook his head. "I highly doubt he would have sold them apart if he had acquired them together-"

"And Doug's probably smart enough not to sell a complete set to the same jeweler, especially if he wants to get rid of it," Claudia interrupted again.

"So where else would a guy from Rockford go to sell a chain he never wants to see again?" Pete wondered aloud.

Artie grinned, "That's where we come in." He scooted over to his computer and began pulling up all the information they could have on Doug. "Let's see, so this would be about two months ago, where did Doug go?" He pulled up a window listing several receipts and such from dozens of different places. "Fast food...gas station...coffee shop...fast food...medical co-pay...pharmacy... fast food-"

"Boy, does he even know how to cook?" Claudia remarked.

"Apparently not," Myka responded.

"Let's see... pharmacy again-ah! Bingo! Clark's Jewels on Thursday."

Claudia flexed her fingers, "Shall we locate this establishment?"

Artie shook his head, "No, that's the guy he sold the gyth to, the one in Chicago. Which means that he must have sold the chain..." he scanned further down the list, "Ah-ha! One gold chain appraised on Saturday afternoon at-"

"Aladdin's Palace of Gold in Chicago?" Pete read incredulously from the screen.

"Good grief!" Myka burst out, "All right, he _must _not know the value of that chain! Sounds like a hole-in-the-wall to me!"

"Wouldn't be surprised if a place with a name like that was black market, either," Pete agreed.

"All right," Artie stood and began packing his signature black bag. "Sheerya, you're coming with me, we'll go to Chicago. If we find the chain, we'll go straight to Britney's house, you can meet us there. Sound good?"

"Will do, Artie."

"Yippee!" Sheerya cheered, flying loops around Artie's head.

"Don't get too excited, you little pixie," he warned, "Stay put and stay hidden or so help me you will make the journey inside my hat!"

Sheerya immediately dove for his collar. Artie flinched and rubbed at his neck, "Hey! Be careful in there!" Sheerya only laughed. He looked at his employees, a peeved expression already covering his face, "If you find anything you think I should know of, call me on the Farnsworth."

"Good luck, you two!" Myka called as Artie walked out the office door.

"More like good luck to just Artie, he's the one who's going to need it," Pete observed.

Just then, Claudia's laptop bleeped. She checked the alert message.

"Whoa, guys! Ping!" She said.

All three friends gathered to read the news flash: "_MORGAN MUSEUM CLOSED FOR INVESTIGATION. The Morgan Museum of Modern Art in Ann Arbor, MI, has closed its doors temporarily to the public as it was discovered that a few pieces of art have been stolen from the basement storage facility sometime within the past few days. Mr. Donner, the curator at the museum, states that he is just as surprised as anyone else. "The piece or pieces-we aren't sure yet how many-that are missing don't appear at this time to be anything valuable, but we want to make sure that any donated pieces are still safe for their owners." The investigation is still ongoing, as extensive inventory must be taken, as well as questioning of the numerous security guards who apparently had no idea of any unauthorized personnel in the storage area at any time."_

Claudia looked from Pete on her right to Myka on her left, "Coincidence? I think not!" she exclaimed jokingly.

"Ann Arbor, wait that's-" Myka grabbed the Farnsworth and called Artie.

He answered almost immediately, "Myka, what is it? I just left Univille."

"There's been a mysterious break-in at a museum in Ann Arbor."

Artie blinked for several moments, "So?"

"Doug and Britney were just there recently."

Artie grinned, "You think something might have happened?"

"By the pricking of my thumbs, something _artifact_ through here comes!" Pete quoted dramatically.

"Why don't you two go check it out," Artie suggested. "Let me know what you find."

"Will do, Artie," Myka replied, closing the Farnsworth.

Instantly, Claudia was hanging on her shoulder, "Take me with you!" she exclaimed.

"Claudia, the warehouse needs somebody to look after it-" Pete remonstrated.

"Please? It gets so _boring _around here!"

Myka laughed, "Ha! With you, Claudia, dear, _nothing _is boring; not even breathing."

Claudia scowled as Pete and Myka prepared to leave the office. "Okay," Pete was saying, "Stop by Leena's for a change of clothes, and on to the train station for Ann Arbor."

"Have fun you guys," Claudia called after them, but she didn't sound at all like she meant it. Pete waved and closed the door behind them. Claudia spun aimlessly in her chair, "I'll just sit back here and...breathe." She spun a few times one direction, then-just because-began spinning the other way. "And time is going to fly," she grumbled.


	11. Chapter 11: Adolf on the Scent

_Chicago, IL_

Duncan Clark surveyed his store with pride. Every customer had an employee with them, escorting them around the different cases, amiably helping them with anything they needed or wanted. He was proud of the way his people kept things running so smoothly.

The door-chimes rang as another customer entered the store. Duncan observed the man-towering, muscular, a thick brow and dark, thick hair. The jeweler felt a chill run down his back just looking at the man. He appraised the new customer, judging the man's appearance with the same eye he had for judging the value of jewelry. The man wore jeans, heavy work boots, a Carhartt jacket, and a cap pulled low over his eyes; not high-income, but maybe blue-collar who had been saving to buy something special for a special someone.

Duncan strode over to the man. "Can I help you? Are you here to purchase a gift?"

The man fixed the jeweler with a dark stare, and smiled a toothy, savage grin. "I've actually come here after something _you _bought," the man stated in a gravelly voice.

Meanwhile, at Aladdin's Palace of Gold, deeper in the heart of the city, Artie stepped into the small, darkened store and gazed around. The shop consisted of a single jewelry display case, and all other items displayed on shelves or on velvet boards along the wall.

"Can I help you?" A dark-skinned man emerged from the shadows at the back of the store.

"Yes," Artie said, still scanning the pieces displayed around the store, desperately hoping to find what he sought. "I am here looking for something very particular," his eyes stopped, and the Warehouse curator smiled, "and I believe I've just found it."

_Ann Arbor, MI_

"Thank you for coming, I'm so grateful to have the FBI's help on this," Mr. Donner nodded to Pete and Myka, "While we are just a small museum, Agent Bering and Agent Lattimer, the works we own are generally very valuable, lent to us for storage or display by extremely generous donors." He led them down the stairs to the basement. "We've almost finished the inventory, and so far, only one piece is unaccounted for."

"Which is that?" Myka inquired, wondering at the pile of statues he was leading them to; all of them seemed bizarre, unearthly creatures, the stuff of myths and nightmares.

"The piece came from this set here, ironically the only one we have from an anonymous donor."

Pete examined them closely, "Looks like some pretty creepy stuff you have there, if you don't mind my saying, Mr. Donner," he commented.

Donner chuckled, "Actually, I don't mind, I agree with you. We only pull this stuff out at Halloween, as per the request of the donor, I suppose. My predecessor, Mr. Pritchard, could tell you more about it. I'm afraid I just do what I'm told about this particular set."

Myka blinked; Pritchard! The Morgan Museum of Modern Art! That's why it all seemed familiar! She grabbed Pete's arm. "Can I tell you something really quick?"

Pete glanced at Donner, who nodded. He stepped away with Myka, "Sure, what's up?"

"_The statues are Underworlders! _Casey Rankin was the one who donated them! Remember? He talked about it in both books!"

"Ah, yeah! At the end! I read that part," Pete recalled. They turned back to Donner.

"Mr. Donner, could you tell us which...piece is missing from this collection?" Myka asked.

Donner checked the list posted next to the pile, "I believe that would be the...werewolf model, Agent Bering."

Pete and Myka looked at each other, "_Werewolf?!_"

_Ann Arbor, MI_

Artie had just purchased a train ticket back to Rockford when he heard the familiar tinny buzz of the Farnsworth in his bag. He pulled it out and grinned at the two agents on the other side.

"Guess what I found?"he crowed gleefully.

Pete and Myka seemed worried about something, but Myka responded, "What?"

Artie held up the golden Chain, safely sealed in a plastic bag, "I found the Chain! Now we can put the Phantasmagyth back together!"

"Shush! Not so loud!" Myka warned in a hurry.

"What's wrong?" Artie asked.

"Artie, we have a problem," Pete announced.

"What problem?"

"You know that break-in we were checking out?" Myka reminded him.

_"_The one in Ann Arbor? What about it?"

"It was at the Morgan Museum of Modern Art."

Artie frowned, "Which is-"

"The one that Casey donated the paralyzed Underworlders to at the end of the first book."

Artie's eyebrows shot up into his hairline, "Oh!" he breathed, "Oh my goodness!"

"Yeah, and get this," Pete continued, "it happened about the same time as when Britney and Doug were here on a date-"

"But neither of them know about Casey's history there, except maybe Britney, a little, so neither of them could have any knowledge of what was stored beneath the Morgan Museum."

"Right, and guess which Underworlder is missing?"

Sheerya popped her head from Artie's collar, "The bat!" She cried.

Pete stopped, "What bat? There wasn't a bat on the inventory list."

"What?" Sheerya cried indignantly, "That was where we left Krasimir! You mean he's escaped?"

"Yeah, or dead, but Artie... it was the werewolf."

Sheerya suddenly shrank very small and hid herself, "Oh no!" she moaned, and Artie could feel her quaking in terror, "Not Adolf!"

"Adolf?" Artie repeated, "German for 'wolf.' _Very _ironic."

"Krasimir named him," Sheerya explained, but Myka cut in.

"If Krasimir was controlling Doug, that means that Doug probably had the artifact on him-"

"Which Krasimir could then use to revive Adolf and undo the paralysis," Sheerya supplied.

"Wait, really?" Pete asked, "The chain reverses paralysis?"

"Oh yeah, but only the paralysis caused by the Phantasmian drug, right, Sheerya?" Myka remembered.

"Right, and especially Krasimir's chain, which gives him authority over all Underworlders. He's probably sent Adolf to track the Phantasmagyth."

"Wait," Pete inserted, "Isn't the gyth still at the warehouse?"

Artie shook his head, "I had Claudia send it to Britney with instructions to lock it in a safe in the attic. It's safe for when we get there."

"But if both pieces are en route to Rockford-" Myka worried.

"Britney might not be safe!" Pete finished.

"Okay, you guys, get to Rockford as soon as you can. We'll see you there," Artie ended the conversation and closed the Farnsworth. He stood and grabbed his bag as the announcement came that his train was boarding. "Ready?" he whispered to Sheerya.

"Ready!" she chimed back.

At the ticket kiosk, a swarthy, burly man in work boots and a Carhartt jacket began to purchase a ticket for Univille, SD. Just as he was about to confirm his purchase, his head snapped up and there was a glint in his dark eyes. He sniffed. "Fairies," he snarled in a gravelly voice. He glanced toward the train waiting in the station, the one now boarding passengers for Rockford, IL. The man changed his destination and received a ticket under the name Adolf Schlimme for Rockford. Grinning darkly, he boarded the train.


	12. Chapter 12: Trouble In Rockford

On the other side of Rockford, Artie ascended the steps of Britney's porch. As he laid his hand on the doorknob, Sheerya remarked, "Stop! Shouldn't we knock first?"

"Britney's not home right now, Sheerya," Artie explained. "She's out on a date with Doug right now." He strode right through Britney's unlocked door and headed straight upstairs to the attic.

Britney's attic consisted of a small room at the back of the house, inaccessible except for a small, narrow stairway from the top floor. Right at the top of the stairs, Artie smiled when he saw the squat, black safe no bigger than a small television. "Here is our baby," he told Sheerya, who hovered over his shoulder, looking on with fascination. As Artie prepared to carry the safe back downstairs, Sheerya pondered his words.

"Wait," she murmured to herself, "_that's _a _baby_?"

Artie carried the safe into Britney's kitchen and prepared to open it, having arranged a combination with her ahead of time.

Just then, someone knocked at the door. Instantly, Sheerya hovered over the peep-hole.

"It's a man!" she cried to Artie.

To maintain the appearance that nothing was out of the ordinary, Artie answered the door as if he owned the house. "Hello."

The man standing on the porch towered over the portly curator. He smiled a wide, toothy smile, and Artie smelled a heavy, meaty scent coming from the man. "Hello, somebody sent me here to collect an item."

Sheerya whispered, "_Adolf!" _in Artie's ear, and Artie decided to shake his head. "No, I'm sorry, I don't think I have anything you want. Goodbye!" He slammed the door in Adolf's face and locked it securely. "That takes care of him!" he declared, returning to the kitchen table.

Sheerya wasn't convinced. "I don't think-"

_Thud. _"Step away from the safe, old man," a gravelly voice warned.

Artie turned to confront Adolf, who stood there in the kitchen and leered at him, licking his chops. "And what if I don't?" he questioned boldly.

Adolf lunged and grabbed his shoulder, "Then I will move you out of the way." He shoved Artie aside easily and noticed a broom handle leaning in the corner. Stealthily, he reached out and grabbed it. "Hey Adolf-"

"What?" In the instant Adolf turned, Artie brained him with the broom handle. A blow like that would have felled a normal man, but it barely knocked Adolf off his feet and only split his lip. Adolf rubbed the blood off with his hand, then licked it off his hand. He smiled, "I think I'll make you regret this, old man!"

Sheerya burst out of her hiding place at full-speed, diving at Adolf's sensitive eyes and ringing at full volume in his ears. Artie whacked him again, as he flailed against the tiny attacker. "You stupid fairy! I should have crushed you when I had the chance! I'll eat you whole! I'll eat both of you alive, chew you up into little bits and swallow you!" With that threat, Adolf dove onto the floor as if to land on his hands and knees, but as he fell, his body covered in fur and elongated. When he landed on the ground, he was a wolf, a very angry, very hungry wolf.

Back at Doug's house, Doug/Krasimir roughly dragged Britney from the closet by her hair. She was sobbing with hurt and terror. "Please!" she begged him, "Please don't kill me! Please don't kill me!"

Doug/Krasimir coarsely cast her on the ground. "It's too late for that now, girlie! You should have thought of that before you decided to become so unreasonable!" He glanced around the room. Doug had a small work-table with tools and whatnot against the far wall. Doug/Krasimir picked up a hammer and tested its weight in his hand. He strode back to Britney, still curled up and shaking on the floor. Bending low over her, he said, "I'll give you one last chance before it _really _starts to hurt! What did you tell the investigators about me? Do you know where the Phantasmagyth is?"

"I told them nothing!" Britney shrieked, "I don't even know you, or what the Phantasmagyth is!"

"But you knew about the chain, stupid girl! How did you know about the chain?" Doug/Krasimir roared, raising the hammer over Britney's head.

"_Freeze!"_ A voice rang out, and a bolt of lightning seemed to enter the room sideways and slam right into Doug's chest. The force of the bolt knocked him clean off his feet, and he passed out.

Myka and Pete, who had arrived just in time, raced over to Britney and helped her to her feet. She was weak with terror and shook with sobs. "He-I-He was... Doug-"

"No, Britney," Myka corrected gently, laying a hand on her shoulder, "That wasn't Doug; that was Krasimir Schlimme, an evil man. He just took over Doug's body."

Britney stared at the body lying on the ground, "What did you do to him?"

Pete tried to shrug it off, "Just an electrical shock, sort of like a taser. He'll come around eventually."

"I hope he's still himself when that happens," Britney eyed him warily as Myka helped her to the stairs.

"Trust me," Pete replied, bending over to pick up Doug's body, "I think he will be."

The four of them gathered in the sitting room, and Britney recounted to the two agents all that had happened. "One minute, he was nodding off, and the next minute, he was a completely different person!" she cried, "I thought Doug loved me, but all of a sudden he seemed to want nothing more than to hurt me! I hardly knew what to think when he was telling that story, because Doug had never told me about anything of the kind!"

"What didn't I tell you?" Doug suddenly moaned, regaining consciousness in the midst of Britney's sentence.

Britney was back by his side in an instant, "Doug, is it really you? You don't want to hurt me anymore?"

Doug stared at her like she was crazy, "Yes, it's me; hurt you? Britney, you're my girlfriend, why on earth would I want to hurt you?" he rubbed his head furiously, "What's going on, here?" He noticed Pete and Myka for the first time, "You two? Back again, are you? What for, did I do anything suspicious?"

"Doug," Pete began, clearing his throat, "you may have been under the influence of a wicked man named Krasimir Schlimme. That's why you've been walking in your sleep, and crazy things keep happening-"

"Like the sleepwalking and the freaky dreams?" Doug supplied.

Myka cocked her head, "What dreams?"

Doug shook his head, "About three months ago, in fact, a few weeks after I set up all these antiques in the house, I had the most vivid, weirdest dream I've ever had in my life!" He shook his head, "I wouldn't have believed it was all real, but when I woke up, there were these little fairy-figurines all around me, and I had the big gem-medallion in my hand."

Pete and Myka looked at each other, "I think this could explain a lot. Doug, could you tell us exactly what happened in the dream?" Pete asked.

Doug shrugged and shifted in his seat, "Sure, it was so bizarre I never really forgot it. I dreamed I was in a dark forest, and right away this big-thing, I couldn't see what it was-got right in my face. It almost ran me over. We sort of tripped over each other. I thought I was still dreaming, and that it was attacking me, so I just reached out and grabbed something to fend it off with. It turned out to be a tree branch, and I hit it over the head once. When I lifted the tree branch, I saw the thing's head twist-I remember I could sort of make it out in a shaft of moonlight, it almost looked like a horse with something coming out of its forehead-anyway, it's head twisted, and I saw blood, and the creature was on the ground, and didn't move. There was a medallion hanging off the branch..." Doug gulped to rein in his emotions, "I took it off, and then I heard a bunch of hoof-beats, like a horde of creatures was after me." He grew pensive, "It must not have been a dream, because usually you can't run in a dream, but I ran away from those creatures. I heard a bunch of sounds like alarm-bells going off all around me, and bright lights seemed to rise out of the ground where I ran. I saw a big, deep hole at the bottom of a tree, almost like a cave, and I figured I could hide there till the danger passed. I dove inside, and all of a sudden, I was back in this house, in the upstairs hallway, with the lights all around me. The rest of what I did was foggy... Something happened and all the lights went out, and I fell back asleep." Doug shook his head, "Boy, the next morning was the strangest one I'd ever had! I had the medallion, but it had fallen off the chain, and I knew I didn't want to keep it, in case somebody thought it was stolen. I went to Chicago and sold the two pieces to different jewelers." He looked at the two agents, "Are you saying that I actually went to a different world? How is that even possible?"

Pete nodded, "We think it might have something to do with the chain on your great-grandfather's waistcoat."

"The one that went missing?" Doug asked.

Everyone looked at the case. "It is gone!" Myka cried in surprise, "Where did it go, Doug?"

The young man shrugged, "When Brit and I went to Ann Arbor, it showed up in my pocket, though I have no idea how, but when we got home, it was gone."

"You said you gave it to an old friend," Britney offered.

"I did?" Doug asked, scratching his head, "When did I say that? I don't know who on earth I would have given it to."

Britney shook her head, "Sorry, I guess Krasimir had said it."

"All right, who is Krasimir? Sounds like a pretty awful guy, if he can take over people's minds like this!"

"We can explain later," Myka interrupted, "but for right now, I just have one question: if he lost it in Ann Arbor, where is the chain now?"


	13. Chapter 13: Attack and Rescue

On the other side of Rockford, Artie ascended the steps of Britney's porch. As he laid his hand on the doorknob, Sheerya remarked, "Stop! Shouldn't we knock first?"

"Britney's not home right now, Sheerya," Artie explained. "She's out on a date with Doug right now." He strode right through Britney's unlocked door and headed straight upstairs to the attic.

Britney's attic consisted of a small room at the back of the house, inaccessible except for a small, narrow stairway from the top floor. Right at the top of the stairs, Artie smiled when he saw the squat, black safe no bigger than a small television. "Here is our baby," he told Sheerya, who hovered over his shoulder, looking on with fascination. As Artie prepared to carry the safe back downstairs, Sheerya pondered his words.

"Wait," she murmured to herself, "_that's _a _baby_?"

Artie carried the safe into Britney's kitchen and prepared to open it, having arranged a combination with her ahead of time.

Just then, someone knocked at the door. Instantly, Sheerya hovered over the peep-hole.

"It's a man!" she cried to Artie.

To maintain the appearance that nothing was out of the ordinary, Artie answered the door as if he owned the house. "Hello."

The man standing on the porch towered over the portly curator. He smiled a wide, toothy smile, and Artie smelled a heavy, meaty scent coming from the man. "Hello, somebody sent me here to collect an item."

Sheerya whispered, "_Adolf!" _in Artie's ear, and Artie decided to shake his head. "No, I'm sorry, I don't think I have anything you want. Goodbye!" He slammed the door in Adolf's face and locked it securely. "That takes care of him!" he declared, returning to the kitchen table.

Sheerya wasn't convinced. "I don't think-"

_Thud. _"Step away from the safe, old man," a gravelly voice warned.

Artie turned to confront Adolf, who stood there in the kitchen and leered at him, licking his chops. "And what if I don't?" he questioned boldly.

Adolf lunged and grabbed his shoulder, "Then I will move you out of the way." He shoved Artie aside easily and noticed a broom handle leaning in the corner. Stealthily, he reached out and grabbed it. "Hey Adolf-"

"What?" In the instant Adolf turned, Artie brained him with the broom handle. A blow like that would have felled a normal man, but it barely knocked Adolf off his feet and only split his lip. Adolf rubbed the blood off with his hand, then licked it off his hand. He smiled, "I think I'll make you regret this, old man!"

Sheerya burst out of her hiding place at full-speed, diving at Adolf's sensitive eyes and ringing at full volume in his ears. Artie whacked him again, as he flailed against the tiny attacker. "You stupid fairy! I should have crushed you when I had the chance! I'll eat you whole! I'll eat both of you alive, chew you up into little bits and swallow you!" With that threat, Adolf dove onto the floor as if to land on his hands and knees, but as he fell, his body covered in fur and elongated. When he landed on the ground, he was a wolf, a very angry, very hungry wolf.

Back at Doug's house, Doug/Krasimir roughly dragged Britney from the closet by her hair. She was sobbing with hurt and terror. "Please!" she begged him, "Please don't kill me! Please don't kill me!"

Doug/Krasimir coarsely cast her on the ground. "It's too late for that now, girlie! You should have thought of that before you decided to become so unreasonable!" He glanced around the room. Doug had a small work-table with tools and whatnot against the far wall. Doug/Krasimir picked up a hammer and tested its weight in his hand. He strode back to Britney, still curled up and shaking on the floor. Bending low over her, he said, "I'll give you one last chance before it _really _starts to hurt! What did you tell the investigators about me? Do you know where the Phantasmagyth is?"

"I told them nothing!" Britney shrieked, "I don't even know you, or what the Phantasmagyth is!"

"But you knew about the chain, stupid girl! How did you know about the chain?" Doug/Krasimir roared, raising the hammer over Britney's head.

"_Freeze!"_ A voice rang out, and a bolt of lightning seemed to enter the room sideways and slam right into Doug's chest. The force of the bolt knocked him clean off his feet, and he passed out.

Myka and Pete, who had arrived just in time, raced over to Britney and helped her to her feet. She was weak with terror and shook with sobs. "He-I-He was... Doug-"

"No, Britney," Myka corrected gently, laying a hand on her shoulder, "That wasn't Doug; that was Krasimir Schlimme, an evil man. He just took over Doug's body."

Britney stared at the body lying on the ground, "What did you do to him?"

Pete tried to shrug it off, "Just an electrical shock, sort of like a taser. He'll come around eventually."

"I hope he's still himself when that happens," Britney eyed him warily as Myka helped her to the stairs.

"Trust me," Pete replied, bending over to pick up Doug's body, "I think he will be."

The four of them gathered in the sitting room, and Britney recounted to the two agents all that had happened. "One minute, he was nodding off, and the next minute, he was a completely different person!" she cried, "I thought Doug loved me, but all of a sudden he seemed to want nothing more than to hurt me! I hardly knew what to think when he was telling that story, because Doug had never told me about anything of the kind!"

"What didn't I tell you?" Doug suddenly moaned, regaining consciousness in the midst of Britney's sentence.

Britney was back by his side in an instant, "Doug, is it really you? You don't want to hurt me anymore?"

Doug stared at her like she was crazy, "Yes, it's me; hurt you? Britney, you're my girlfriend, why on earth would I want to hurt you?" he rubbed his head furiously, "What's going on, here?" He noticed Pete and Myka for the first time, "You two? Back again, are you? What for, did I do anything suspicious?"

"Doug," Pete began, clearing his throat, "you may have been under the influence of a wicked man named Krasimir Schlimme. That's why you've been walking in your sleep, and crazy things keep happening-"

"Like the sleepwalking and the freaky dreams?" Doug supplied.

Myka cocked her head, "What dreams?"

Doug shook his head, "About three months ago, in fact, a few weeks after I set up all these antiques in the house, I had the most vivid, weirdest dream I've ever had in my life!" He shook his head, "I wouldn't have believed it was all real, but when I woke up, there were these little fairy-figurines all around me, and I had the big gem-medallion in my hand."

Pete and Myka looked at each other, "I think this could explain a lot. Doug, could you tell us exactly what happened in the dream?" Pete asked.

Doug shrugged and shifted in his seat, "Sure, it was so bizarre I never really forgot it. I dreamed I was in a dark forest, and right away this big-thing, I couldn't see what it was-got right in my face. It almost ran me over. We sort of tripped over each other. I thought I was still dreaming, and that it was attacking me, so I just reached out and grabbed something to fend it off with. It turned out to be a tree branch, and I hit it over the head once. When I lifted the tree branch, I saw the thing's head twist-I remember I could sort of make it out in a shaft of moonlight, it almost looked like a horse with something coming out of its forehead-anyway, it's head twisted, and I saw blood, and the creature was on the ground, and didn't move. There was a medallion hanging off the branch..." Doug gulped to rein in his emotions, "I took it off, and then I heard a bunch of hoof-beats, like a horde of creatures was after me." He grew pensive, "It must not have been a dream, because usually you can't run in a dream, but I ran away from those creatures. I heard a bunch of sounds like alarm-bells going off all around me, and bright lights seemed to rise out of the ground where I ran. I saw a big, deep hole at the bottom of a tree, almost like a cave, and I figured I could hide there till the danger passed. I dove inside, and all of a sudden, I was back in this house, in the upstairs hallway, with the lights all around me. The rest of what I did was foggy... Something happened and all the lights went out, and I fell back asleep." Doug shook his head, "Boy, the next morning was the strangest one I'd ever had! I had the medallion, but it had fallen off the chain, and I knew I didn't want to keep it, in case somebody thought it was stolen. I went to Chicago and sold the two pieces to different jewelers." He looked at the two agents, "Are you saying that I actually went to a different world? How is that even possible?"

Pete nodded, "We think it might have something to do with the chain on your great-grandfather's waistcoat."

"The one that went missing?" Doug asked.

Everyone looked at the case. "It is gone!" Myka cried in surprise, "Where did it go, Doug?"

The young man shrugged, "When Brit and I went to Ann Arbor, it showed up in my pocket, though I have no idea how, but when we got home, it was gone."

"You said you gave it to an old friend," Britney offered.

"I did?" Doug asked, scratching his head, "When did I say that? I don't know who on earth I would have given it to."

Britney shook her head, "Sorry, I guess Krasimir had said it."

"All right, who is Krasimir? Sounds like a pretty awful guy, if he can take over people's minds like this!"

"We can explain later," Myka interrupted, "but for right now, I just have one question: if he lost it in Ann Arbor, where is the chain now?"


	14. Chapter 14: Happily Ever After?

If fighting a strong, burly man was difficult for Artie, fighting a wolf was more so. Adolf could lunge and snap as fast as a blink and the old curator was having trouble maintaining a distance from him.

"Quick, Sheerya!" Artie cried, "How do I defeat a werewolf?"

"You know, you don't actually have to defeat him," she replied, zipping in and wounding Adolf again. "See the chain around his neck?"

Artie looked hard, and amid the dark fur, saw the bright glint of a chain. "Krasimir must have left it around his neck in Ann Arbor," he concluded.

"Yep, and that's the only thing keeping him alive right now. If you can get it off his neck, he'll be paralyzed again."

Adolf lunged and snapped, and Artie resorted to pulling pieces of furniture behind him. "Well, I can't really do that when he's got claws and teeth!"

Sheerya pondered a better strategy, "You've got to force him to revert to human form again, then I can help you trap him to get the chain off."

"Sounds like a plan!" Artie cried.

As he pulled more furniture into the middle of rooms, he noticed that Adolf the wolf was having more and more difficulty navigating the rooms on the floor. By shuffling chairs, tables, drawers, and couches around as he raced around the house, he created a narrow pathway that was almost too much for Adolf to handle. He heard Adolf howl, and suddenly, he was on his feet as a man, pushing aside furniture with his hands.

"Now, Sheerya!" Artie yelled, and the little fairy sprang into action. Taking several strands of thread from spools in Britney's knickknack drawer, she spun so they twisted together in a firm rope, and flew quick circles around first Adolf's wrists, then around his body. Before he could effectively fight back, Adolf found that his hands were tied tightly behind his back, and Sheerya pulled on the threads in such a way that Adolf fell to the ground right at Artie's feet. Deftly, Artie bent down and pulled the chain off Adolf's neck. Instantly, Adolf's body sprang up in wolf form, but he only assumed the position he had been paralyzed in, and did not move. Artie poked him cautiously.

"Solid as a statue," he muttered.

"Yay!" Sheerya cheered, "We did it!"

Artie made his way back to the kitchen, where the safe had been knocked off the table and into a corner. Artie opened the safe and withdrew the package. "Let's meet everyone else at Doug's house," he said, "but before we leave, there's something I need to do first." He found his black bag near the front door, and pulled out a neutralizer packet. Very carefully, he dropped Krasimir's chain in and sealed it tight.

Sheerya gasped, "I'm not sure what you did just then, but I could almost hear Krasimir Schlimme screaming!"

"Yeah, I guess his only way out of Phantasm now is if he dies! Let's go, Sheerya," Artie said, pulling open the front door.

Britney had just finished explaining the whole story to Doug, when a knock sounded at the door.

"Everybody here safe?" a familiar voice called, and Artie strode in with Sheerya on his shoulder, a package in his hand, and a plastic bag from Aladdin's Palace of Gold on his arm.

Doug gasped and pointed, "Britney, you were right! There's one of the little folk I brought back with me now!"

The saucy little fairy flew right up to his face, "Sheerya's the name; what did you do with the rest of my kin?"

Doug pointed to the table, "They're all in envelopes over there. That whole table is all stuff I did while I was-well, while Krasimir had control of me."

"We've got to get them out before we repair the Phantasmagyth," Sheerya said, as everyone gathered around the table.

"Repair the, what now?" Doug asked, but everyone set about opening the envelopes and pulling out the fairies. Once they were all laying stiffly on the table, Sheerya nodded.

"That should be good for now; they'll wake up once the portal opens." She paused and thought about this, "Which should be... Oh! Right now!"

"Now?" Britney asked, opening Artie's package and pulling out the gyth, while Artie pulled the chain out of the bag.

_Snap! _like a paper clip to a magnet, the chain swung over to the gyth and fused there. It began glowing with the brightest light anyone had ever seen.

"Put it on wood!" Sheerya ordered as the table was suddenly alight with awakening fairies. "Put it on wood!"

Britney hurriedly laid the Phantasmagyth on the table in the front hall next to the glass case. Instantly, a hole began to open up in the middle of the wainscoting, revealing grass, trees, blue sky, and bright daylight on the other side.

"Home!" all the fairies cried, eagerly flying through the portal. A white figure appeared on the horizon.

Britney squinted, "Is that-"

The figure drew closer at a very fast pace, and everyone gasped as they saw what the creature was.

"It's a unicorn!" Britney breathed with wide-open eyes.

The unicorn saluted them with its milk-white horn. "I am Rennykin, son of Casserdin, Protector of the Phantasmagyth," it said.

"That's exactly the same sort of creature I killed," Doug remarked, and when everybody looked at him, he added, "quite by accident."

The unicorn fixed its noble gaze on Britney. "Are you a descendant of Casey Rankin, the Great Hero of Phantasm?"

Britney gasped, almost too amazed to speak. "My...My grandfather was a..._hero_?"

Rennykin nodded, "The greatest hero Phantasm has ever known. He could have used the Phantasmagyth for evil purposes, but he chose that it should rightfully belong to Phantasm. It is now a tradition that the Protector or any other Phantasmian who distinguishes itself in matters of honor, bravery, and compassion, will bear the name of the human who first displayed these qualities."

Britney glanced at the glowing gem on the table between them. "Do you want it back now?" she asked Rennykin.

The grand unicorn lowered his head, "Put it on my neck, ma'am, that I may bear it, as is my duty."

Britney slowly lifted the Phantasmagyth off the table, and as she did, the portal began very slowly to close. Carefully, she slipped the chain over Rennykin's horn and let it fall over his neck. Instantly, Rennykin's horn glowed along with the Phantasmagyth, and the milky-white velvet fell from the horn, revealing a clear surface underneath. "Thank you, Casey's granddaughter," Rennykin said as the portal closed around him. "Fare you well." Everyone blinked, and the wood was solid again. No one moved for several long moments, then Britney began gasping as if she had held her breath through the whole encounter.

"Was...that..._real?"_ she gasped.

Myka knelt in front of her and picked something up off the floor. It was the velvet from Rennykin's horn. She placed it gently in Britney's hands.

"I believe so," Myka said quietly.

_Three months later_...

That fall, all four Warehouse agents were invited out to Rockford one last time to celebrate the marriage of Douglas Peter MacPherson and Britney Marissa Rankin-Horne.

The couple were overjoyed to see everyone.

"How are you all doing? Thanks so much for coming!" Britney gushed. She grabbed Myka's hands and looked around at everybody. "I have something to show you all. Come with me!"

Britney led them to the gift table, beside which a memorial to her parents and grandparents had been set up. Proudly displayed on the table amid photos of the couples were two books, _Fairies Under Glass _and _The Return to Phantasm_.

"Ah! I see you had them published," Artie remarked.

Britney blushed, "It was the least I could do, after not believing him my whole life," she admitted.

"So where are you two lovebirds going for your honeymoon?" Pete inquired as Doug joined them at the table.

Doug picked up Britney's hand and clasped it gently in his own. Britney smiled, "We're going to the United Kingdom, Scotland mostly. Doug wants to see his old family place there," she turned and gazed lovingly at him, "and I want to, also."

"Congratulations to you both!" Claudia said._ "_One word of advice: don't _ever _keep secrets from one another again. Tell each other everything," Claudia smiled widely, "that's what marriages are for."

"Thanks for everything," Britney cried sincerely. As the couple moved away, Artie sighed blissfully.

"There goes the happiest MacPherson I have ever seen!" he cried.

Myka shook her head. "And I wish the best of luck to them both!"


End file.
